Paradoxical
by timydamonkey
Summary: AU. Parents would do anything to protect their children. In doing so, they can unwittingly damn them... and Danny's just wondering who and what, exactly, he is.
1. Nightmare World

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey)_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor am I making any profit from writing this fanfic. Do I even need to include that last bit? Whatever, it's there now.

* * *

Author's Note: Looong author's note… I'll only do this for this prologue. This prologue, too, should be the onlypart with the wacky writing style… and this prologue, being a prologue, will be short. 

Anyway…well, what do you know? My first Danny Phantom fic! I have way too many ideas in this fandom, I'm telling you. This can work as a one-shot – though certainly not as well – so I'm planning on making it into a chaptered fic. Updates will be sparse at the moment – I'm writing this when I'm meant to be revising for exams – it just won't get out of my head!

I've never seen anybody try and write something like this before. Then again, it's not like I've read every Danny Phantom fic, is it? Whatever, I'm babbling too much. The point is: please review, and let me know if I screw up with consistency or making characters OOC or anything. (Most noteable and intentional characterization differences are Danny and his parents).

* * *

Prologue – Nightmare World:

They'd told him they were evil.

Daniel Fenton – more commonly known as Danny – didn't tend to believe things if he'd just been told and never seen them, but they were his parents and they didn't lie to him. They were Jack and Maddie Fenton, successful ghost hunters – well, apart from the fact that they hadn't seen a ghost in a long, long time.

They had seen one, though, and that was why they'd become ghost hunters. A passing interest in ghosts suddenly became a mission to obliterate all of them, just because of that one day. After all, ghosts may have once been human, but from what they'd seen, they were violent, wanting to cause trouble for no reason – and Jack had almost been killed.

It was certainly powerful motivation.

They'd told him they were like demons. They were malevolent spirits, unsatisfied with what had happened in their lives and so using their deaths to make other people just as miserable. Maybe, they'd said, it was a cycle, and that spawned more ghosts when _they_ died, and sooner or later there'd be more ghosts than humans, and the humans would suffer for it.

His sister – Jasmine, known as Jazz - told them they were silly; that that sort of thing never happened. Ghosts weren't real. Jack tried to sentence her to an hour in the Fenton Stockades. Maddie refused to allow it.

When they were in college, they and a friend – Vlad Masters – had been curious, and tried to access the Ghost Zone, home of all ghosts. It had failed, only resulting in Vlad getting a horrible case of ecto-acne. They'd back off, startled, and he'd never spoken to them again. They hoped he would.

Jazz said it was because he realized what a stupid idea it had been, how he could have been killed. She was seven or eight at the time, but it was a time when she sounded far older than it. Perhaps it was because she'd heard their tale so many times that she had nightmares about it – and she couldn't accept a nightmarish reality.

They'd told him stories of ghosts, one in particular. From the way they spoke of it, it seemed to be the embodiment of evil.

This was the ghost that almost killed Jack. Maddie had only been caught in the crossfire very lightly, but she wasn't going to forgive anyone – especially a _ghost_ - attempting to murder him.

It had been the night of their honeymoon.

The ghost had black hair, formed like horns, and they'd said it could probably spear somebody on them. It – for that was all it was to them; an _it_ – had unnaturally red eyes and pale blue skin. The clothing they couldn't remember too well, just remembering a spatter of the colours red and white ("probably colours of demons!"). It was a ghost, and ghosts were everything that was wrong with the world.

First and foremost, though, they'd told him never to trust them – that even they appeared human, there was nothing human about a ghost. They were all nothing more than killing machines… and that was what _terrified_ him.

* * *

They hated ghosts; he knew that. What he didn't know was why they were trying to create a ghost portal that, from what it sounded like, would connect the two worlds. It scared him. 

His parents told him that they wanted to be able to study one… and of course, it would be a wonderful opportunity to try out the weaponry they'd spent a great portion of their time working on, made especially to be effective against ghosts.

He didn't really think he wanted to see one. To be honest, he didn't know what he was doing there, standing around while his parents jabbered on. They were down in the basement – the lab - now, and they'd stopped. Grinning, his father announced, "This is it… The Fenton Ghost Portal! What do you think, Danny?"

Looking at where his father was gesturing, he saw a big… thing. It was the only word for it, as it looked like nothing he'd ever seen before. This was the thing his parents had been working flat-out to make. He scrutinized it carefully.

"This is it… the grand opening!" Jack grinned. He held two ends of wire in his hand, while his wife stood off to one side just behind Danny, holding an ecto-gun. They wanted to be prepared, he supposed, and his mother was there to protect him. He smiled slightly.

His father connected the circuit.

The portal made a wheezing sound, and several sparks shot out, but otherwise it did nothing. It looked like it had blown a fuse or something. His parents didn't say anything and he looked up, but their heads were bowed and they trounced off in a gesture of… was that _defeat?_

They'd put so much into that project…

And really, it was because of that realization that everything went wrong.

* * *

It was dark and very late when Danny crept downstairs. The sound of snoring could be heard, and he figured his family were all fast asleep. He didn't know quite why, but he felt like he was being dragged towards that stupid ghost portal… he just couldn't keep the disappointed look on his parents face off his mind… 

When he reached the lab he stood and stared for a minute. What was he _doing? _He was shaking. Ghosts terrified him. He thought the portal was a bad idea. What was he _doing_ there? He should go back up and go back to bed.

But looking at it couldn't hurt anything, right?

He went to step into the portal, but felt a little self-conscious. He remembered what happened before and worried about going inside… but why he should he go back now? To calm his unease a little, he put on a predominately white – though not without black gloves and similar accessories – hazmat suit.

He stepped into the portal, staring at it. He was pre-occupied looking at it, how high-tech it was, dimly he thought that Tucker would love to see technology this advanced, even if didn't seem to work, and he had to admit it was pretty –

He tripped over a wire. He'd barely realized there were wires inside there, and as he tripped he snatched hold of the side of the portal, staring at what was in front of him. There was a panel with two buttons – on and off. His parents… they hadn't just forgotten to switch it _on_ had they?

He wanted to back away. He was scared. If it worked, the portal could lead to ghosts. He'd never known a ghost, but he already knew he hated them, knew what sort of creatures they were. Why shouldn't he hate them?

His finger crept forward almost of its own volition and pressed the button. There was a blinding flash of light.

There was a lot of pain. He screwed his eyes up tight and thought that maybe he heard screaming, but perhaps it was all in his head. Either way, it _hurt_, and when the sensation faded away after what seemed like hours but had probably only been a few minutes, he opened his eyes.

The first thing they registered was that there was a green swirling vortex of some sort in front of him. Had he fixed it? The second thing he noticed drove that out of his mind, though; his feet didn't seem to be touching the floor. He was hovering in midair.

That wasn't possible! He spun around, and on the shiny surface of the outside of the ghost portal, he saw his reflection. His breath hitched in his throat as he froze in fear, barely breathing. At least, Danny thought, if he even _could_ breathe.

He remembered…

_They'd told him they were evil… they were all nothing more than killing machines…_

Danny screamed.

* * *

Author's Note: Please review. I'd really like to know how well or badly this is received. 

I'll put up a next chapter preview whenever I have some written. Presently my only pre-written scene is part of the one where Danny meets Vlad... and that's got quite a while before I get to it.


	2. A Traitor to Himself

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Chapter One: A Traitor to Himself

For a moment of pure horror that seemed to last for an eternity, Danny just stared down at himself. The gloves he had been wearing appeared to have inverted to white, just as the suit itself had become black. The reflection in the portal (ghosts had _reflections?_ He hadn't ever thought so, but he'd never had reason to ask either) was slightly distorted, and he found himself staring at a scared looking boy with snow-white hair and dazzlingly green eyes.

_No._

Danny wasn't stupid. He had no idea what had happened, but he also knew there was only one way he could be floating… if he was a ghost… if he was _dead._ Dimly he wondered why he didn't seem to have any urges to go and wreak ghostly destruction, but maybe that came later. He knew it would come. His parents had told him so. Over anything paranormal, Danny Fenton trusted his parents.

Then the moment shattered with two cries from upstairs:

"…_What-"_

"….GHOST!"

Danny began to hyperventilate. Slowly his feet sunk to the floor. It was a little odd, he could feel the ground but it somehow felt… different, as if he was treading on a thin sheet of ice that he could fall through at any moment. What was he going to do…? He was a ghost, so maybe they couldn't see him! For all the stories Danny had heard of ghosts, he'd never actually seen one, so he decided it was reasonable – and very hopeful – to just try and get back upstairs.

He had no idea what he'd do when he was up there, but a half-done plan was better than none. Really he wanted to just sit down and scream, but there'd always be time for that later. Besides, he thought morbidly, it looked as if he'd have all the time in the world.

He crept up the stairs as quietly as he could, grabbing hold of the rail at the side. At that moment, he felt like a frail old man. All of his strength seemed to have drowned out of him. Upstairs, his parents were probably conferring about where the scream had come from. Hopefully, this would give him some time –

"Jack!" his mother's voice announced imperiously. "Search the lab!"

Danny didn't know if his heart still beat as a ghost, but he was fairly sure if it didn't, this shock would be at least enough to scare it back into beating. He was terrified. He lost all grip he'd been holding and stared in a daze, then realized he really needed to get moving.

He wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

Danny stumbled as he climbed, but froze when his foot seemed to fall right through the step.

For a moment, he was paralysed with terror – he really _was_ a ghost; a murderer; a heartless beast waiting to rip anything apart because he was jealous; a villain with a vengeance and no mission but to kill; a complete animal; a – and then he tried to pull out his foot very haphazardly in his terror, and then he fell and tumbled down to the bottom of the steps. He blinked dazedly. The most peculiar feeling had overcome him, an almost electrical sensation that actually felt quite pleasant.

The next thing that Danny knew, the door had opened and his father stood there for a moment before yelling, "Aha! Gotcha now!" In that moment when Danny stared at his father, he saw death himself. He paled, but closed his eyes. After all, he should be happy. His father would… dispose of him – that way he wouldn't have to hurt anybody. It was a blessing, really.

He knew all of that and it made him wonder why he was trembling so badly.

The sound of his father walking down the steps was like a loud gong. He waited for something to happen, but there was a long pause before his father said, "_Danny?"_

Danny opened his eyes again, still shaking, terrified of himself but wondering how his father knew it was him and why he hadn't attacked yet.

"Danny boy, are you okay?" His father's hands pulled him up. Danny stared at his own hands for an extra moment. His arms were bare, and he appeared to be in his usual attire. What had happened? Where was the jumpsuit? Why did he seem… normal now? Had he been dreaming? Had he perhaps fell down the stairs first and been knocked out?

He really hoped that that was the situation. He felt like he was in an odd sort of dream state. Perhaps he was in shock. He wanted to go to bed, and sleep, and forget about anything that he felt had just happened. He'd been imagining things. There was no other possible explanation…

He didn't really register his father dragging him upstairs, his mother's concerned questions, them settling him in bed or the way they stared at him, somehow knowing all was not right with him. As far as he was concerned, one minute he was in the lab and then the next minute lying in bed.

Pushing the confusion aside, Danny relaxed. He was in bed. It was all just a dream. Satisfied with this situation, he lay down and sleep came almost immediately.

* * *

_Everywhere was white. It stretched upwards in a void of nothingness; a place that he was pretty sure didn't actually exist. If this wasn't odd enough then someone appeared… _he_ appeared…_

_No, that was a lie. It wasn't him. He'd seen him before, he knew, and he was scared. The other boy looked scared for a moment, too. The boy seemed to be getting further backwards without actually moving, as if Danny himself was trying to drag himself away from such a… creature._

_He wasn't human. He was a _ghost._ And it _wasn't_ him!_

_The boy had started moving forward now, and the backing up sensation became more rapid. The white-haired green-eyed youth – the _ghost_ – walked at a leisurely stroll, a slow pace, but he was getting closer and closer as if nothing was moving away from him at all._

_All of a sudden, the youth stopped. He quirked an eyebrow and grinned. To Danny, it was like looking at a predatory gaze of a shark. He gulped. _

_For a moment, the boy did nothing – then two rings of energy suddenly enveloped him and it was like staring in a mirror. For a moment, he was seeing a malicious version of himself, then the mirror image's eyes widened in desperate fear. He looked as if he was going to scream –_

_Danny woke up, covered in a thin layer of sweat. For the remainder of the night, he stared at the ceiling, and thought, and for a few short moments, cried.

* * *

_

Danny was a wreck.

They'd known it from the moment he'd walked into Lancer's classroom that morning. He had bags under his eyes and looked very deep in thought. Everybody had noticed.

Only they had noticed how much he was shaking. In a way, they supposed it was natural. They _were_ his best friends. And that was how Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley had ended up spending their whole first class wondering what the hell could have happened in under twenty four hours to make Danny act like a zombie.

They'd even taken to whispering to each other, not caring so much if they were found out because helping their friend was more important. (That, and Tucker had apparently had his most recent PDA stolen. Sam was expecting another one to pop up at any minute.)

They hadn't really gotten anywhere. Sam had said that maybe somebody had died, but Tucker pointed out they'd probably know at least something about that. Tucker suggested it may have something to do with whatever Danny's parents had wanted to show him, but Sam pointed out that he was so used to that sort of thing it couldn't do anything to cause him to act like this ("But, Sam!" Tucker said, "Technology _can_ be scary if you're not completely enlightened!") The theories had ended up degrading into Tucker stating that maybe the _real_ Danny had been abducted by aliens. It was about that time that they realized that things were getting ridiculous and that it wasn't really getting them anywhere.

Sam suggested that they needed to confront him about it. For once, Tucker agreed.

Something was going on with their friend. And whatever it was, from the looks of him, it was tearing him apart from the inside.

* * *

Author's Notes: Good grief, this really is getting angst-ridden. I hope this is as good as the prologue. I shouldn't really update now; I should be revising. But I suppose, seeing as next week is half-term, that I can forgive myself. 

ALSO: I put up a little bit of additional information about this fic in my profile, if anybody's interested.

I thank you all for the reviews. You guys are all great; I've never had such a bunch of cool reviews. I'm sorry if I haven't had time to reply, I'm trying to reply whenever I get a review but I'm quite forgetful. Also, thanks to the people who may not have reviewed but have put this on their favourites or story alert – you guys rock too. Constructive criticism is welcome; flames (read: "mindless insults") are not.


	3. Chills

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Author's Notes: I am not happy with this chapter. At all. But it's been too long so I figure it's better than nothing. First I had my exams, then I was just lazy after them, then I sat down to do some and got writer's block after four lines. Then I sat down again to write this afternoon, and my outline rebelled, and I got writer's block in five different places - and let's face, it my chapters are quite short anyway! In other words: this chapter and I have major issues. 

On the bright side, you can thank today being my birthday (woot, I'm 16!) for inspiring me to give you all a present. As always, thank you for the reviewers, the readers and the 14 people with this this on their story alert. Wow, that's more than the reviews for both chapters - it gives me a far more accurate view of how many are reading and liking this.

* * *

Chapter Two: Chills:

"Danny, are you sure you're okay?"

"What are you talking about, Sam? I'm fine – never been better!"

Sam and Tucker exchanged another look. Danny really wasn't the best liar.

They were heading back to Danny's house, but so far conversation had been anything but comfortable. It really wasn't easy to have a good conversation when your best friend was acting so… oddly.

Something was majorly wrong.

"I know we keep asking this, but dude, are you _sure_ you're-"

Although Danny had a good idea what Tucker was going to say, he never heard it. He stopped. A chill had suddenly racked hold of his spine and he shivered, and for a moment it seemed like his breath could be seen hanging in the air. That was ridiculous, though; however cold Danny was, it wasn't weather where every breath should be visible. He started walking again, berating himself. He was clearly hallucinating, because something like that never happened to normal people –

But he wasn't normal, was he? Not any more.

Why was he panicking? It was nothing. He was just being ridiculously jumpy for no reason; that was it –

"Er, Danny – have you been _smoking?_" Sam asked unsurely.

Danny blinked at her and said indignantly, "No! Why would I do that? Geez, Sam, you're staring to sound like my parents, what could _possibly _make you think I've ignored the fifty million warnings you get?"

Sam looked unconvinced. Why had he been so overly defensive? He didn't know. But it was true – he _hadn't_ been smoking! Why did he have to justify himself to them anyway? Why would they even care? What had even made them think like that?

He was angry. He was _very_ angry… and maybe it was just in his mind's eye, but Tucker and Sam seemed to have edged away from him! Who did they think they were?

And then it hit him; maybe the breath had seemed like… smoke? It was obvious; the only possible explanation! The anger completely dissipated and he smiled wearily.

"Sorry," he told them, "rough day."

He started walking again, and Sam and Tucker lingered behind for a moment.

"Did you _see_ that, Sam? Man, what was up with his eyes!"

"I hoped I was imagining it…"

They both looked back at Danny, and decided that whatever was going on had to be really important. What else could explain how Danny's eyes had suddenly flashed an intense green colour?

* * *

It was really only a few minutes later when the day got even stranger. Nobody could say that floating electrical appliances was a normal occurrence in Amity Park. 

"What the?" said Sam, voicing the same concerns as the general populous of Amity Park.

Tucker, meanwhile, had other problems. "My babies! Hey, get back here! I still have five payments on that! How could my PDA betray me like that?" he wept overdramatically. Tucker seemed to have a disturbing relationship was _his_ electrical appliances.

Danny stood frozen. This… wasn't normal! And if his parents had taught him anything, it was that ghosts could be the only ones to cause this sort of thing.

Maybe… maybe it was him! No, that was really absurd: how could he make everything float and not know about it? He was still handling whatever had happened, that was all – at the moment, he felt like he needed to lie down and sleep. Now was obviously not the time, though.

Besides… he couldn't be a ghost! Last night had been some kind of dream; he knew it.

Then the cackling started. "I am TECHNUS! MASTER OF TECHNOLOGY!"

The three of them spun around to face what appeared to be quite the 'Nutty Professor'… floating… in the air.

Ghost. His parents had told him they were evil, and this was all the proof he needed – how could something throwing stray washing machines at people be good? It wasn't like it was an accident either, if the continuous cackling was to be believed. The ghost was still shrieking too, "…I will destroy the world!"

"You've got to be kidding me," muttered Sam.

The ghost – or Technus, as he'd introduced himself – suddenly turned to face them.

"Er, Sam, was it really necessary to attract his attention?"

"Well, excuse me for not knowing that thing apparently has supersonic hearing!"

Danny said nothing, just stared at the ghost, wide-eyed. It stared back at him, evaluating him, before slowly whooping (of joy?) and throwing an overenthusiastically rotating blender at his head, before flying off, probably to terrorize some other part of the town. Danny ducked with instincts that came out of nowhere. The blender ricocheted off his head and hit the floor, still spinning crazily.

He stood up. It was true, he wasn't a ghost – he didn't have crazy powers like that anyway, he couldn't control electronics or anything! He was _not_ a ghost! He walked forwards silently. He needed to lie down even more than before.

Tucker and Sam traded uneasy glances again and then followed.

* * *

"They were obviously ghosts," argued Tucker. 

"Hello, ghosts aren't meant to exist?"

"What else would you suggest?" asked Tucker, "that it's an alien?"

"Don't be in an idiot! But come on, ghosts… isn't that just a little far-fetched?" questioned Sam.

"Ghosts exist," Danny deadpanned; his only contribution to the conversation so far.

"Your parents… they're paranormal experts, right?" said Sam, an idea forming in her mind.

"Yes," confirmed Danny, not liking where this was going.

"Well, why don't we just go and speak to them about it? They can tell us if it was a ghost, right? And how ghosts are… and how that thing could have control over everything like that?"

"It was a ghost… and ghosts are evil, that's all you need to know!" protested Danny.

"What are you so afraid about? Come on; we'll be fine!"

"Yeah, dude, it seems like the best idea to me."

He was too tired to argue anymore. "Okay, okay," he muttered, but couldn't help thinking this was a very bad idea.

* * *

Author's Notes: Reviews are, as always, appreciated. 


	4. Doomed and Doomed

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Author's Notes: Updates are slower coming because I've been doing fanart (can be found at timydamonkey dot deviantart dot com if you're interested) and planning another story. That probably won't be posted for a few months though, as I refuse to post the prologue without the first four or five chapters written… that way I can update every week or two rather than whenever I have a chapter done. I'm considering writing ahead a bit with this, too. I do have a prewritten scene for around chapter six, though – and that is when this stops moving so slowly along. **Important author's note at the end, please read it. **

This chapter looks like it's going to be short. Sorry about that… And wow, it's hard to try and describe computer games.

And thanks to the seventeen of you with this on alert and to all of my reviewers. Definitely my most popular story! Glad you like it.

* * *

Chapter Three: _Doomed_ and Doomed

In front of him, another person blew up. The gun in his hand was smoking.

"Dude," said Tucker from his side, "calm down, Danny. Bad day?"

"Not especially."

It had been a week earlier when he'd gone to see his parents with Sam and Tucker. He'd known it had been a bad idea. When he was younger, he'd been captivated by their stories of ghosts and what they did. Sometimes he would wake up from nightmares, staring around the room for a trace of some ghostly aura that would alert him to their presence.

He'd never saw anything.

He had wanted to block out what they were telling him at that particular time last week. For once, he felt like he'd heard enough. It wasn't so much as a forewarning anymore, but something that completely terrified him. He didn't think his parents had ever noticed.

He put his finger on the trigger once again and fired. Another person was vaporised. It was his best round, he supposed; he was clearing through the ranks quite effortlessly. It was a pity that the main objective of _Doomed_ wasn't to eliminate all competition, or today he'd have been winning over an hour ago.

It wasn't as if they'd learnt anything new, anyway. In fact, Danny thought the only thing the little talk had accomplished was getting Sam and Tucker far more wary about ghosts. They seemed to be learning that the best thing to do was stay away from ghosts, and let other people capture and get rid of them.

He still wasn't quite sure how anybody would get rid of them. He didn't think he wanted to know.

But all in all, he'd had enough of ghosts. It was the reason he was blasting away, he supposed; he was calming his nerves. He still couldn't get the ridiculous notion of seeing himself as a ghost out of his head. It was stupid. Besides, he was plainly alive, and being both alive and dead at once defied all logic.

Besides, he was playing _Doomed_. He bet ghosts couldn't play _Doomed_. Anyway, there would be no reason behind it – what could playing it accomplish? They only wanted to destroy people, he knew.

He obliterated Chaos, the guy who always seemed to be two steps ahead of Tucker and him. He felt a surge of pride for that; whoever said stress couldn't be productive needed to face the end of the virtual gun.

He could have sworn that a voice had yelled "Danny!" in the instant before he'd done it – and that voice wasn't Tucker, yet still oddly familiar... But that was impossible. The only other person around was Chaos (he supposed other players were steering clear of them today), and it was impossible for that guy to know who he was.

Maybe he was going mad, hearing things. He didn't want to find out. He didn't ask Tucker if he'd heard anything.

Danny turned to face Tucker, who looked slightly awed. "When did you get that good with that thing? Have you been playing first-person shooters without me or something?"

Danny shook his head. "I guess concentrating really does work."

"Hasn't Jazz been trying to tell you that for years?"

Danny ignored him, turning around and stepping forward.

"Are we going to-" Tucker began, but that was as far as he got. Danny seemed to have inadvertently changed _Doomed_ into World War III, and somebody threw a virtual grenade at the two of them, crowing triumphantly. He supposed the person was getting revenge for an earlier victim.

The grenade detonated. Tucker made a startled exclamation. Danny felt… odd. For a moment, he wondered if the lack of pain and somewhat pleasant tingling feeling was the sort you got when you went into shock after a wound – but that was stupid. This was a game – there was no pain simulation. The feeling was coming from himself; where he was sat in front of a computer, wearing the Fenton Helmet as a game controller… and it was oddly familiar, to what he'd felt at one point when the accident had occurred, when his foot had stepped through stone as if there was nothing there…

Then the smoky simulation on the screen cleared and he was standing there, unharmed, without even singe marks on his sprite's clothing. Tucker was nowhere to be seen. The person who'd chucked the grenade stared in astonishment, and then turned and ran.

This… was impossible. He should have been thankful for it, but there was no way he shouldn't have been harmed. Maybe he'd accidentally activated some cheat code, if _Doomed_ even had any. The only thing he was happy about was that the strange feeling had disappeared as if it had never been there.

The virtual gun he'd been holding had been blasted out of shape, a hot twisted ball of metal against a stark landscape. If this had been real, that would have been him. He should have been kicked out even how it was.

He looked at the guy running away from him, angry again. Something inside of him seemed to be rising, saying, 'he wanted to do that to _me_.'

It was a _computer game_.

This was beyond ridiculous, but for a minute he couldn't help himself. He was angry – it felt like anger from everything had just balled up; anger at his parents for their tales of ghosts, at his friends for their doubting him and constantly asking the same questions, at Jazz for her stupid overly-done concern over him for the past week… and at himself for being stupid enough to mess with the ghost portal.

He didn't intend to do it. He didn't even know how it happened. All he knew was that he'd raised his hand, clenching his fists… and then there was a green line of light that gave the area an eerie glow shot from his hand and into the back of the running person. They disappeared, defeated.

Funnily enough, the first thing that came to mind was, 'Wow, I never knew that the graphics were that good.' (Perhaps he'd spent too much time around Tucker, he mused.) He knew, though, that it wasn't part of the game. Why have weapons if you could have some kind of superpowers? He had an idea that he knew what they were called, maybe his parents had mentioned it to him… 'ectoblasts'.

The one problem with that theory was that ectoblasts were impossible unless you were a ghost.

Something was wrong. This fact seemed to be reiterated when, from the corner of his eye, Danny saw something… emerge from nothing. It just appeared. It could have been a character logging in to play, but he knew it wasn't. He'd seen this fellow before. And he wanted to run.

At the same time, a thin wisp of blue smoke – at least that's what it looked like – escaped his mouth. This had happened the last time he'd seen this particular person – or, more accurately, this particular ghost. He still didn't know what it meant.

He felt paralysed and mortified and what he'd done. The sprite stood gormlessly, staring at the general direction of the intruder. The ghost smiled. It seemed as confused as he was, but confident when he addressed him: "Hello, ghost child."

Perhaps it was odd that this was the bit that got to him most. _Ghost child._ Impossible! He wasn't dead; he wasn't a ghost! But he'd fired ectoblasts at people. The smoke… he wasn't an idiot; he knew it wasn't normal. His being unharmed by the bomb… what could slip through that and be unharmed?

A ghost could. Something had obviously gone horribly wrong in that accident, and he'd have to figure it out. Now, though, he wanted to flee. He wasn't crazy yet. It was only a matter of time… Remembering the anger, he shuddered. He'd never been that angry before. He didn't want to be again. Was it a repercussion of somehow being a ghost?

Why was the ghost here? Maybe… maybe he was going to have something to do with becoming crazy, thoughtless, pent on destruction! Why else would he be there? He felt like he was doomed to an utter existence of hatred...

Danny came out of his trance. The ghost opened its mouth to speak again. Danny pulled the plug on the computer.

For a moment, he stared at it as if it had bitten him. He was curious, but he also couldn't describe how terrified he was that he'd end up like that mad guy. He'd put off thinking about this predicament for long enough… he'd think about it tomorrow. He was too tired, and really too panicky. He was shaking, but he pretended not to notice, running upstairs to his room (and earning worried gazes from his parents) and burying his face in his pillow.

It had been a long day and he was tired. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

_**Important Author's Note:**_ _**I will occasionally write imagery, it's mostly focused on description for a short amount of time… problem being, imagery is useless to me as I can't picture anything in my head. I'm not sure why – but then, nothing's really in your head, so you can't picture anything, can you? Anyway, the point is, said imagery may disturb some people… it's quite "shady" and graphic (but I've never been able to write one more than 300 words), but it does have a point rather than just being there for the shock factor. HOWEVER: I do not want this fic taken down for having an incorrect rating. So, would you say that something with shady graphic imagery (I don't want to give anything away, but it IS quite graphic) merits knocking the fic up to M? **_

_**If it bothers anyone I'll give warnings if it's in chapters. They are short scenes, though. **_


	5. A Most Peculiar Phenomenon

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_) 

Author's Notes: Wow, where are all these readers coming from? Thank you for the overwhelming amount of feedback! And for anybody who actually cares what my story alert count is, it's now 24. I'm thrilled so many of you like this – I'm treading a thin line between reasonable angst and melodrama, I think.

To anybody thinking this is moving slowly; it starts picking up around now. This chapter is mostly transitional and we get some new point of views. It's mostly here to set up the next few chapters. Nice little surprise in here too.

The fact I'm terrible with conversation is probably highly noticeable. Sorry about that.

Chapter Four: A Most Peculiar Phenomenon 

Despite his immediately flopping off asleep the previous night, Danny hadn't slept much. He'd been woken practically every hour, plagued by bad dreams of himself and a white-haired, green-eyed youth (who, now that he thought about it, could well be him – but he didn't want to admit that, and he certainly didn't have to like it).

He was scared of losing control. He was scared of hurting the people he cared about. He was scared of whatever he seemed to have become.

He got washed and changed and wearily trudged downstairs, heading for the cupboard and plucking out a packet of cereal and proceeded to make himself a bowl, trying not to yawn.

He sat down and began to eat in silence. He felt like he had eyes constantly watching him – he thought it was probably paranoia, but when he looked up, his family were all inspecting him as if he were some particularly interesting specimen. It was like they were dissecting him with their eyes. He shuddered.

His mother noticed the shudder and said, "Danny, sweetie, are you okay? You didn't look very well last night."

_Are you okay?_ It seemed to be the only thing he was hearing recently – he couldn't breathe without being asked how he felt. It was annoying.

He forced a smile. "Sure, mom, I'm fine."

"What was it that had you so spooked last night?" asked Jazz, the wanna-be psychologist. It seemed that she could be tactful when she wanted to… and then annoyingly pushy when she didn't.

"Nothing!" Danny snapped. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He felt like he was getting years older with every day – with all this stress recently, he'd probably have grey hairs even before he turned fifteen. "Look, Jazz, nothing happened last night, okay? I just… got a headache and went to bed?" he finished feebly.

Jazz looked at him doubtfully. "If you say so, little brother," she said in a condescending tone that showed that she didn't believe him in the slightest. He was too weary to argue, so let the matter drop. They hadn't stopped staring, though. Danny pushed the cereal bowl away, his appetite suddenly gone.

"I've had enough," he announced, getting up. "I'd better get to school." He practically dashed out of the room. He didn't like them staring at him as if something was wrong… it made him uncomfortable.

Left in the kitchen, the three other members of the Fenton family exchanged glances and shrugged as one.

"So," said Jack slowly, "who wants to see the Fenton Thermos? I think it's nearly done!" And at that, the Fenton household returned to some semblance of normalcy.

(SCENE BREAK)

Well… wasn't this a nice little mystery?

He'd been skulking around invisibly – not to jump out and scare people, that was just childish. He wasn't childish; he was Technus, master of technology! – to try and see why the puny humans were so obsessed with playing a game that was so in need of a graphics upgrade. There had to be something… something that, when victorious, made up for the shoddy graphics and appalling ideas! He would find it out, and he would take it for himself!

It was dull to watch the little humans fire rays of light at each other as if it actually _hurt_, and even worse to discover that the characters – little weaklings – actually sustained wounds from it! It wasn't that he didn't like a good bit of chaos… but this wasn't even well done; whoever had programmed it had obviously been some kind of amateur!

Then one of the ridiculously puny creatures had fired an ectoblast, and his interest was peaked. The child was boy and ghost? How was it possible? How hadn't he known? ("Create or steal ghost detection device," he noted.)

He was curious. Maybe the boy was just a ghost pretending to be a human? Either way, he may as well find out. It's not as if the floundering mortals had gotten him anywhere nearer to figuring out what secrets the game divulged.

He floated forwards. He'd go and talk to the ghost child, maybe test him –

There was a thud. He'd practically walked into a wall.

- when he'd found a way to get out. Still, it shouldn't take too long… if there was one time when Technus was grateful for shoddy security, it was now. He'd be out of there in no time.

(SCENE BREAK)

Danny was walking home from school when it happened. It was unusually silent – Sam and Tucker seemed to be as a fed up playing the, "you okay?" game as he was, but it was like they didn't want to press him and so weren't talking. He wasn't sure whether or not it was an improvement.

He could still feel their eyes boring into his back.

Then Tucker exclaimed, "Hey!" and Danny spun around. His PDA – the boy seemed to have an infinite collection of them – was floating in front of him, and all three of them felt a strange sense of déjà vu…

"Ghost child!" a voice exclaimed as the Nutty Professor look-alike came into visibility.

"Who's he talking to?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why is he looking over here?" Tucker countered. "…That can't be good."

Danny was frozen on the spot.

Technus was annoyed. Here he was, trying to find things out, and the child… the ghost… the whatever he was, was ignoring him! He waved his arm and the appliances in the immediate vicinity floated around him in a circle.

"Aw, geez, not again."

"I wanted to ask you a question, ghost child!"

Danny looked up. His eyes widened. Technus smiled. Levitating an active drill in front of somebody's face really _did_ get people's attention – who'd have thought? The boy screwed his face up as if he was thinking hard.

In that moment, Danny wanted nothing more than to protect himself… and his friends. A bright circle of light formed from his waist, split and travelled up and down as if his body was being put through a hula-hoop or two. When it had done so, Danny was wearing a black hazmat suit, his hair had turned white and his eyes were shining green.

"Danny?" Tucker asked, taking a slight step backwards.

"How did he do that?" wondered Sam.

"I think I'm dreaming," muttered Tucker, then yelped when Sam pinched his ear. "Ow!"

Sam looked at him innocently, "Oh, come on, Tucker, you were asking for that one."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Technus, smirking. "Now, you must tell me – for I am TECHNUS, ruler of all things electronical – what-"

Danny was shaking. "Shut up!" he yelled. "I don't want to hear it, you… you… ghost scum!" Even as he said it, he had to admit that it was a feeble insult.

Technus cackled. "You are most amusing! But I want to know: what _are_ you, ghost child?"

Maybe it wouldn't have hurt Danny so much if he had actually known the answer.

"I said shut up!" he yelled, voice raising an octave as he clenched his fist… and again, bizarrely, a green light shot from his fist and collided with Technus, who could only blink in surprise as he was thrown backwards into a building.

Still shaking partly in rage, Danny looked down at his feet… and discovered that he was floating. Panic gripped him. The electrifying feeling went through him again – and though he wasn't looking at it, the rings reappeared until he looked as he had minutes before. He hit the ground with a clatter.

Technus was getting up. He looked less than playful, and is if he wanted to tear Danny to pieces.

Danny turned to Sam and Tucker, took one look at their gob smacked faces, looked back at Technus, then fled.

Sam and Tucker stared as he started to run. "Danny, wait!" Sam called, but he didn't stop. She exchanged glances with Tucker and they both took off after him.

(SCENE BREAK)

It was interesting what things you saw when you were out minding your own business (and finding time to pop in and terrify as many humans as possible). Imagine his surprise – and his brothers' – when they caught sight of an actual transformation!

It was a unanimous decision: they had to tell him. They were sure that he'd find it… most interesting.

The three glowing birds flew through the sky, the hidden spies because nobody ever looked for them. As always, nobody noticed them; that was what made them so invaluable to him, and they were going to prove their worth.

Yes, Plasmius would be pleased.

(SCENE BREAK)

Author's Note: Stupid line dividers not working. I've left them in how I write them in Word.

Ooh, I've created a forum... I'm not exactly sure its point. There's a thread on progress that I'm hoping to update once a week and one for questions about Paradoxical, should you have any that you don't want to ask in a review or something.

Feedback - especially reviews - are much appreciated by the author!


	6. Screwed Up Good

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

Chapter Five: Screwed Up Good

Sam and Tucker turned the corner into the park, out of breath.

"Where'd… he go?" Tucker wheezed, stopping and leaning over to catch his breath and get rid of the stitch in his side.

Sam, who was more fit than Tucker, rolled her eyes at his display of vast unfitness and spent the time looking around. There was no sign of him anywhere. "There's no way that he's that… fast," Sam commented, still breathing deeply after all of the running they'd been doing when following Danny. "He has to be here somewhere."

"I think I'm going to die," Tucker whined pathetically.

Sam grinned before loudly exclaiming, "Tucker, your PDA… it's gone!"

"What?" Tucker leapt fully upright as if he'd been shot. "My baby! Daddy's coming!" He rummaged in his backpack, pulling out his PDA. "Hey, it's here! I thought I'd lost you!" He hugged it as if it was his long-lost sibling, causing a lady walking by with a pushchair to look at them strangely.

"Dying, are we?" Sam chuckled.

"Hey, what do you know, I'm cured!" Tucker exclaiming, eying his PDA as if it had been his saviour. Sam gave a long-suffering sigh before getting back to the task at hand.

In retrospect, it wasn't the greatest idea ever to shout, "DANNY! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! WE WANT TO TALK TO YOU!" at the top of her voice. It certainly seemed to make people passing in the park steer clear of them as if they were under the influence of something.

But it all seemed worth it when a voice said very quietly from behind them, "I'm here."

Sam and Tucker grinned, turning around. There was nobody there.

"…Danny?" Tucker asked what appeared to be thin air.

"Hi." It was almost a whisper.

"And… why can't we see you now?" asked Sam. "We could before. Can we now, please?"

"But… but I don't know how. I don't know how I ended up invisible in the first place. I... I was just thinking that everything had to be over now, and that I needed to lose you and go away, and you'd all forget, and…" He trailed off.

"Well, um," Sam added into the uncomfortable silence. "Have you tried thinking that you want to be there again now? That you want us to see you?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, then their best friend was standing next to them, staring at the floor.

"Danny, why didn't you tell us you were a ghost?"

A sheet of emotions seemed to cross Danny's face and he started to babble. "I'm not a ghost! I-I can't be alive and be a ghost, can I? And I'm alive, look! And – and ghosts are evil, you know they're evil, they attack you like that other ghost did, and they hurt people, and I don't want to hurt people, and then you'd all hate me and tell my mom and dad and they'd kick me out and I'd be all alone…"

"Danny, not all ghosts have to be evil," Sam said gently.

"My mom and dad say they do… and they're experts. They'd have to know, right?"

"Hello, they're also ghost hunters!" exclaimed Sam, staring at Danny as if his reasoning had caused him to sprout another head.

"Besides, Danny, we were just there and you weren't trying to kill us. If that's not proof, I don't know what is. We're your friends, Danny. Considering it's not like you turn into some mad axe murderer – however much you think you do – why would we turn on you now?" Tucker demanded, sounding quite diplomatic. He spoiled it a moment later when he added, "You're obviously a ghost – I don't know what else can turn invisible and fire weird energy beams and stuff." Danny looked like he was going to cry and Sam glared at him. "…But you're a very cool ghost?" he offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"But I'm not a ghost," Danny repeated feebly. "Ghosts are dead and I'm alive."

"Well," said Sam thoughtfully, "Maybe you're half ghost."

"Is that even possible?" Tucker whispered to her.

"Just go with it," she hissed back. "Besides, it doesn't make much sense but it's the best explanation that we can come up with."

After a moment of silence, Danny nodded. "Thanks, you guys."

"Anytime," Sam replied.

"Just make sure we don't have to do this again," Tucker said, causing Sam to roll her eyes again and Danny to chuckle hollowly.

At least it was progress, Tucker mused.

* * *

Vlad was already plotting something when they flew through the ceiling. 

"What do you want?" he asked the glowing green birds in an annoyed voice. He hated pointless interruptions.

"There's another half-ghost," said one of the birds, deciding that the simple way was the best way of going about it.

Vlad, who'd looked back down at the paper he'd been holding in his hand, jerked his head up almost immediately. "What?" he demanded. "How do you know this?"

"We saw him."

"He was a child," added another of the birds helpfully.

"Where?" Vlad asked, trying to think of a way to factor this new information into his plans.

"In Amity Park. We don't know who the child is."

Vlad smiled. Amity Park was the easiest place to access really… Maddie, the only woman he truly loved, lived there. She lived with her ridiculously incompetent husband Jack, of course, but forgiving Jack could be his excuse for going there. Not to say that he really had to forgive the bumbling oaf – he could never do that. He knew where they lived – Fentonworks was instantly recognizable to anybody who was interested in ghosts, and Vlad was for obvious reasons. And if anything… cropped up, they'd likely have a ghost portal (Maddie was by far intelligent enough to have made one, if she had enough sense to keep her husband out of the room).

It was a win-win situation, really, he mused.

When he looked up, the birds were still there. "Thank you for the information," he said crisply, dropping his paper on the floor. It didn't matter anymore. He had a trip to make, a surprise for his old friends. He'd be there sometime within the week.

Vlad always had time for anything that would potentially benefit him, and he could see that this would. It was looking like a very promising week.

* * *

However more comfortable Danny may have seemed with them, Sam and Tucker noticed that he never seemed to cheer up. It was actually very annoying, with him walking around as if a black cloud was trailing over his head and ready to downpour on him. 

They wanted to see their friend happy again. They wanted to see him smile.

That was the only reason that they'd gone to her.

Knocking at the door of the Fenton household with Sam at his heels, Tucker said, "Are you sure about this, Sam?"

"Come on, Tucker, it's not like we're going to say anything that's going to hurt him. But… I'm so tired of seeing him mope all the time, and-"

A girl with bright orange hair and cyan eyes opened the door. She blinked. "Sam and Tucker… hang on, I'll go and get Danny-"

"Don't!" Tucker said, sounding a little too panicked about it.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Have you guys fell out or something? Why are you here?"

"Actually, Jazz, we came to see you," Sam replied, making Jazz look a little confused.

"Why would you want to-" She started, but Sam decided to interrupt before it felt too much like an interrogation… even if they might be causing somebody else to get one.

"It's about Danny," Sam replied.

Jazz stopped. "Do you two know what's up with him? He's been a little lately."

"Yeah," Tucker said. "The thing is, he's…" Tucker paused. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her that he was half-ghost. "He's just really nervous because… because he thinks he's seeing ghosts everywhere!" Tucker pounced. _And trying to not see ghosts in himself,_ he added as an overthought.

"Huh?" Jazz asked. "He is? I thought he wasn't into that kind of stuff… he's not taking after mom and dad, is he?"

"Um… we don't know," Sam said, not particularly wanting to get into a ghost debate with any of the Fenton's.

Jazz appeared to be thinking. "I didn't know it was that serious. Maybe he's stressed and is seeing an embodiment of his own fears…" Tucker and Sam exchanged nervous glances. It was a bit unnerving to see Jazz as Danny had once described her – in full psychologist mode. "Thank you. I'll watch out for him."

She grabbed a pencil and pad out of her pocket and started to scribble some notes down.

"Er… yeah, we'll just be going then," said Tucker. Jazz didn't seem to hear, so Tucker and Sam left.

"I hope that was the right thing to do," said Sam, in a bit of a role reversal from before.

"Well, look at it this way," replied Tucker dryly. "If anybody can make him see that it's silly to be so distressed – or that everybody seeing it is just going to make them ask questions – it's Jazz."

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry for the wait. I've been betaing a lot, smashed my hand into a wall two weeks and watched as it progressively got worse. So now I have this whacky cream on it that makes it burn and numb at the same time... but stops it hurting when I type. I think the idea is for me NOT to type, but oh well. I had to get this out. 

I didn't try the bird's accent because it's sort of like when people try and write Hagrid in the HP fandom - a bad attempt at an accent is worse than just dropping it. I probably killed their personalities too, but oh well, I tried. And they can go out of the plot for a bit anyway. :P

Won't say when the next chapter will be ready as I don't know, but on the bright side, it's already half-written. Yay.

Thanks for the reviews and the people who put this on alert or favourites or whatever. I realized that me naming how many alerts I have may seem condescending but it's mostly for my own interest and to see what sort of thing it is that seems to be picking up readers. I'm at 30 and very happy with that - as I said, alerts are great ways of knowing how many people like this, because I know that not everybody reviews.

Oh, I promised you guys a sneak-peak when I had something pre-written didn't I...

**Next Chapter Preview:** (_as it's currently worded; is subject to change in editing)_

_All of a sudden, he saw an opportunity to test the boy – to try and recruit him, corrupt him, to steal the boy from Jack the same way the man had robbed half of his humanity back in college. He could come out of it with a powerful ally… and if things went wrong, he could sort it out by doing exactly what the boy wanted… and more._

See you next time.


	7. Good News At Last?

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_) 

Chapter Six: Good News (At Last)?

He knew he was crying. 

Inexplicably, impossibly, he was watching himself cradle a girl in his arms – a girl he knew well. One side of her seemed almost as black as her hair, blood as thick as treacle splayed about on her face.

He inched closer. He – the other him, the one holding her – was crying too. He was whispering. Danny crept further forward in horrified fascination.

"I'm sorry," his doppelganger was muttering. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to-"

Danny's inside clenched as if a gigantic fist had crushed them. He couldn't breathe.

When he woke up, the tears were just as real as in his dream.

* * *

His eyes were red when he went downstairs to eat. His parents were down in the lab, perfecting another of their crazy ghost items. It was wrong, he knew, to be so bitter, but in a large way this was all their fault… 

He wasn't to blame. He'd stepped into the portal, but only to help them, only to do something to get his parents out of their insane gloom, only to do something _helpful. _And all that had done was given him the potential to be hated. There had to be something ironic in that, he thought.

He could feel his sister's eyes boring into his head like lasers. It had been happening a lot during that week, as if he were her test subject. It was really getting to him. He was already on edge from these nightmares, from all the what-ifs, that he was just exhausted and irritated. He snapped his head up and glared at her.

"What do you _want_, Jazz?"

His sister just raised an eyebrow at him. "You look stressed," she commented.

'Excellent observation!' he wanted to yell, but refrained from doing so. "I'm _fine,"_ he said, stressing the last word. He was getting touchy about it. Honestly, the next person who asked him anything along the lines of 'are you okay' was getting a punch in the face-

"Are you sure that the accident didn't heighten your insecurities, Danny? You've been on edge for days."

"I'm not your patient!" He was yelling now, but he didn't care. "Why are you psychoanalysing me?"

"Because, Danny, recently you've been showing the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and –" Jazz's calm voice made it worse.

"That's… that's _bullshit!_"

The silence in the room was deafening.

Danny took a deep breath. Being angry wasn't helping anything. Why was he so angry? There didn't seem to be a reason. If he really was some sort of hybrid… it would have to be the other half, and that scared him. Ghosts were bad and everything else was good. It seemed that everybody knew that.

What did that make him?

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice coming out more choked than he would have liked. "I… don't know what came over me. I have to go now." He ran out of the room so fast that Jazz felt that if she had blinked, she'd have missed him.

Jazz thought for a minute, then got out a pad and pen and began to write.

* * *

"Danny! Jazzy-pants!" Her father was shouting for her, and the nickname made her cringe. She'd been doing homework, and was spending an unhealthy amount of time worrying about her little brother and the bizarre behaviour he'd displayed that morning. She felt that she didn't have time for this now. 

She went downstairs anyway. "What do you want, dad?" she asked, walking downstairs, her arms folded in impatience.

Her father announced cheerfully, "This is my friend, Vladdy! I haven't seen him since college!" He beamed.

Jazz turned to the man. He'd been giving her father a disgusted look, brushing her father's hands off his arm, but turned and smiled when he saw her looking. "It's Vlad," he informed her, shaking her hand. "And you must be… Jazmine!"

She smiled awkwardly; she was already uneasy of the man. "Hi there, Mr…. Vlad?" Where had she heard that name before? It wasn't all that common. Maybe her father had mentioned him before; they had been friends, after all. They didn't look on the best of terms, now, though, and from the look of his attire, he looked financially well off enough.

"Either Vlad or Mr. Masters will do, Jazmine," he informed her. The name certainly rang a bell, and then it clicked. _This_ was Vlad Masters?

Her mother walked into the room. Vlad's face positively lit up. "Hello there, Maddie!" He said cheerily, sweeping her into a hug.

For a moment, her mother stared at him, then she said, "_Vlad?_ How lovely to see you, it's been such a long time! We thought you may have forgotten us after the little… incident… with the ghost portal."

An incident with a ghost portal? That piqued Jazz's interest at once. Something similar had happened before? Unfortunately, they all seemed reluctant to volunteer any information pertinent to what she wanted to know.

Her father laughed apologetically, and said in his typical booming loud voice, "Yeah, we thought you hadn't forgiven me for the ecto-acne!"

Ecto-acne? On second thought, she didn't want to know.

Mr. Masters – she wasn't comfortable enough to call him anything informal – gave a strained smile and stated, "Nonsense, Jack, I wouldn't keep such a grudge over the two of you!"

He wasn't a great liar. Jazz's unease was only growing.

"Say, where's Danny?" asked her father.

"I think he's sick, dad," Jazz informed him, not wanting Danny anywhere near this guy. She didn't know why she felt that; she put it down to intuition. "Maybe that's why he didn't come straight away when you called us. I think you should let him sleep."

Then Danny walked down the stairs.

* * *

Vlad scrutinized the boy walking down the stairs. He seemed haggard and tired – enough to be as sick as his sister described. 

The boy was looking at the floor, then blinked when he saw feet in front of him. He looked up, looking from one person to another. "Uh, hi," he offered nervously, putting his hand behind his neck in some gesture of bashfulness.

"Danny! Where've you been?" Jack – the abominable man – asked, seeming not to notice his son's exhaustion. Typical Jack Fenton.

"Playing _Doomed_ with Sam and Tucker," he said. "I came down to get a drink. I didn't know anybody was here…"

The boy's gaze locked on his for a minute. Vlad smiled predatorily. The boy looked terrified. What of was anybody's guess. Then the boy shivered violently, and Vlad swore that he saw blue vapour emerge from the boy's mouth.

"Danny?" Maddie questioned, inspecting her son worriedly.

The boy laughed nervously. "I… think I'm coming down with a bit of the flu. I'm alright, really."

"I knew it!" Jack proclaimed. "A _ghost virus!_" Vlad almost clobbered the man for all of his idiocy.

The boy paled even more. "It's… it's just ordinary flu, okay!" he exclaimed defensively, his arms wrapped around his middle.

Maddie seemed to sense his discomfort, then gestured to Vlad. "Danny, this is Vlad Masters, an old friend of your father and I."

"Nice to meet you?" the boy offered; more of a question than a greeting.

"And you too," Vlad said, scrutinizing him again. Something was certainly off about the boy. It unnerved him a little; he was normally quite good at judging people, or so he thought.

"You have to come and see the lab, Vladdy!" Jack proclaimed. "Danny can come along and help me!"

"But, I-" the boy started.

"Dad, maybe Danny should go back to bed. He looks sick," the girl – Jazmine, was it? – offered. The boy turned and glared at her. How… quaint. They were obviously in the middle of some kind of brother/sister dispute.

The boy shook his head and said, "I'll go. Drop it, Jazz, there's nothing wrong with me."

Vlad watched Jazmine stare at Daniel, exasperated, and then she told her father (how could that man be allowed to pro-create?), "I'm going to go and finish my homework now." She practically stomped back up the stairs.

Her brother looked slightly guilty, but not regretful.

Vlad found himself being practically dragged into the lab. Jack's over-eager personality still irritated him, after all of these years. At least the boy had the courtesy to look slightly apologetic.

At least the children seemed to favour Maddie.

"We've only just kick-started the lab, recently," Jack informed him. "It's funny, really, we did it all to protect our children – and then when we made our best creation yet, Maddie and I, Danny got into a bit of an accident down here!"

Protect his children? Who was the imbecile kidding? He posed danger to them just by holding a pair of scissors.

He didn't phrase that, though. What he said was, "An accident, you say?" He stared carefully at the boy, who seemed to be getting paler as they mentioned it. 

Quietly, the boy said, "Yeah, but that d-"

His father cut him off. "That's right, V-man! Poor Danny here, bit of a clumsy fellow, had a little accident around the lab! We dunno exactly what he did, but he seemed a bit spooked and ended up falling down a flight of stairs, right Danny boy?"

Vlad's eyebrow rose slightly as, when the boy's oaf of a father called him clumsy, the boy's eyes momentarily flashed green. He thought maybe he'd imagined it until the boy, who had apparently somehow noticed it too, began to shake crazily, but didn't answer his father's question (Vlad couldn't really blame him).

Jack continued, despite his son's lack of response, "And when we saw him, the Fenton Ghost Portal had finally started working!" While Vlad stiffened at the idea of such an incompetent man creating a successful ghost portal even with Maddie's help (he'd have preferred Jack to have had no hand in any of the work in the lab in the first place), Jack just grinned and obliviously patted the boy on the head almost fondly – it made Vlad's lip curl up in distaste – and then spoke, concerned, "Hey, Danny, you okay, son?"

The boy – Daniel, he reminded himself – looked nervous and said, "Uh, yeah, I think maybe Jazz was right… I just need to go and lie down…" The boy started to head out of the door.

He couldn't have that. The boy was something of an interesting puzzle; he needed to fit together what was making the boy seem so jumpy. Luckily for him, his old 'friend' never seemed to ask questions (it was probably beyond his brain capacity, Vlad thought) and it looked like it was coming in handy. "Jack, may I have a little talk with young Daniel over there please?"

"Sure!" said Jack cheerfully, and Daniel scuttled over towards him slightly, but he looked at him as if he felt like he was a mouse being cornered by a cat. Vlad smirked. The boy was so wary of him; he seemed to have alarm bells going off in his head.

_Smart kid._

"And while you're doing that, I'll go and get some of that high-tech weaponry to show you so I can blather on to you about ghosts!" Jack continued. Vlad smiled. This was his chance.

He didn't know exactly what he was going to say. The boy looked like he was going to run away, so Vlad grabbed hold of his arm to prevent it happening. The boy froze, once more looking terrified, and his hand went intangible, and-

_Wait._

His hand had gone intangible. He remembered what Jack had said… an accident – maybe… like his? The boy could be powerful. He had a lot of potential. Vlad wondered why the boy hadn't even made a remotely threatening gesture yet, and looked up.

Daniel looked like he was going to have a panic attack. His breath was hitched up and he was staring at his arm like it was the end of the world. He jerked backwards, away from Vlad, but that was all he did before just staring at it again.

All of a sudden, Vlad knew. The way his eyes had flashed green, the way talking about ghosts had made him so uneasy, the way he was acting if such a little accident was the end of the world. The boy was _terrified_ of ghosts. More than that, he was terrified of himself.

"You're a ghost," Vlad stated aloud, wondering if it was for his own benefit or the child's.

"_No!_" Daniel's furious denial again made him raise an eyebrow. Perhaps he had been trying to lie to himself, to say it wasn't true, that he was still completely human –

Vlad knew it wouldn't work for long. He'd tried it himself, after all. All of a sudden, he saw an opportunity to test the boy – to try and recruit him, corrupt him, to steal the boy from Jack the same way the man had robbed half of his humanity back in college. He could come out of it with a powerful ally… and if things went wrong, he could sort it out by doing exactly what the boy wanted… and more.

"Horrible creatures, ghosts, aren't they?" Vlad said conversationally. "And to have one inside you… but I can get rid of that. I can make you become yourself again from before this mess…"

The boy looked up, blue eyes glistening with tears – he hadn't realized that the boy was crying – and whispered in a voice hoarse with hope, "Really?"

"Absolutely. I can make sure that such a foul creature within you will never bother you again."

"You… can?" he said, staring at Vlad, still shaking from fear. He leapt at him and latched onto his arm. "Please, _please_ do-"

"So I take it we have a deal?" Vlad held out his hand. The boy stared at it for a moment, and then shook it.

"It's a deal," he sounded so quiet, but then he looked up, smiling slightly at the thought that this nightmare could all go away soon. He didn't seem to know when it'd be done though, so he didn't see a problem asking. "When can you do it?"

"It will be done in due time, my dear boy," said Vlad, inwardly smirking. The boy had fallen right into his trap… and there was nothing _anybody_ could do about it.

* * *

Author's Notes: I've been wanting to do that last scene for what feels like forever. Since I started the fic, certainly. Now, I have more planning to do - planning up to my next pre-written scenes (ie. those with shady graphic images). 

Danny's conversation with Jazz was hard to write. I was worried the 'bullshit' thing was OOC, but bear in mind that he's exhausted and stressed, and is just losing his control with her. It's not something he'd say with his emotions under control... but when he said it, they certainly weren't.


	8. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, this is shorter than normal. I wanted to get it out today though, and it's midnight, and this was supposed to be a sort of transition chapter, but plot came forth. Yay! And Spectra's been put off a chapter. She wasn't even meant to be in this story... bleh. Oh, and to why I've been late: I've written some new material: my obligatory "crush the cliche!" HPDP crossover, a Harry Potter drabble (Regulus-based) and a Danny Phantom drabble (Danny-based). It's even angstier than this fic. But just to let you know what's been going on. I generally put progress stuff on the appropriate board on my forum and/or my deviantart (name of timydamonkey). 

Reviews appreciated! Ooh, and I nearly drowned of irony in this chapter. :)

* * *

Chapter Seven: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

In the following days, he was happy. It made a noticeable difference, and even Jazz seemed to back off and leave him on his own (which, he thought, was a miracle if anything was).

He could become normal – just a boy, like others his age. He felt as if he could feel the world spinning again. Even when Vlad left, swearing to Danny's parents that he'd be in touch, he could feel the happiness swarming over him like a wave.

He wouldn't be able to be evil, because Vlad would help him, and stopping evil was good. This called to reason that Vlad was an infinitely good man – helping him, when he could be at risk himself from Danny's ghost half…

He wondered if that was what a saint was.

In fact, with the elation that was springing through him, Danny would only have hesitated slightly in describing those days as some of the best days of his life.

And then it started to go wrong.

* * *

He still had the dreams. They were never the same, always different, but seemed to have a common theme – him being evil. Maybe it was his biggest fear. Either way, it seemed that the paranoia was creeping up his bones again, and though he was happy, he really was, he started to get jumpy again. 

So jumpy that he lost control of the stupid powers that he didn't want in the first place. Once he messed up something in chemistry – the rack didn't seem to be as sturdy as it first looked, and he reached for it and picked it up. The permanent chill that covered his body made it feel as if he was being poked with a branding iron, and he swore, and his hand went intangible, and the test tube, hydrochloric acid and all, went clattering to the floor.

He earned a week of detention, a lecture on safety when using chemicals and another one on how narrowly it had missed his partner's eye – how narrowly he'd come to permanently damaging them. He supposed that was where the paranoia had come back from – the possibility of returning to normal was wonderful, really, but right now he was being as damaging as ever to other people because of his lack of control. Because of him being a half-ghost.

And he hated himself for it.

* * *

He was flying through Amity Park. 

_In fact, Danny concluded, this was clearly not him, as he had no idea how to fly. He ignored the bubbling joy of being able to fly – of being free – they weren't his emotions._

_This wasn't him._

_He'd see if anything this awful had happened. It obviously wasn't real. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Nightmares can't hurt you. _

_But they can hurt other people._

_He was watching the activity of the people beneath him – he should be one of those people down there, damnit, not watching this! – when a voice from behind him said, "Hello, Daniel."_

_He spun around, and forgot to breathe. He felt like he was being propelled forward – instead of being the silent watcher from the back, he was… in control. He half-expected to fall. He didn't._

_Which was good, because he knew this ghost – had heard stories of him for years. The ghost had tried to kill his father! He was why his parents had decided all ghosts were evil! (Where had that come from? Danny wasn't sure; didn't HE believe that too?)_

_If Vlad Masters, the man who'd offered to help him, was a saint, then this was the devil._

_He certainly looked enough like your stereotypical devil. He even appeared to have horns! _

"_I… I… who are you?" Danny asked, his voice choked._

"_A friend," said the devil-ghost, a self-satisfied smirk spreading over its face. _

"_You're not!" Danny yelled. The idea of keeping a lid on his identity flew out of the window at that point. "I heard about you! You tried to kill my parents!"_

_The ghost scrutinized him for a moment. "So I did," he said softly. Danny was shocked – he hadn't expected him to admit to it, especially in such a matter-of-fact tone. "Is it so wrong to want to have revenge on those who ruin your life?"_

"_But you're dead!" He didn't mean to yell it, nor to sound so insensitive. It just happened. _

_The ghost looked quite amused. "And if I wanted revenge on the one indirectly responsible for my… death?"_

_Danny knew he was talking of his father. "But he wouldn't! My dad… he's a really nice guy! I mean, he can be a bit goofy sometimes, but he wouldn't hurt somebody! They… they wouldn't die! That's ridiculous! It's-"_

_The devil-ghost asked quietly, "Are intentions really so important to you, Daniel?"_

"_Yes!"_

"_Then what are your own?" The problem was, Danny didn't know how to answer. He remained tight-lipped. The ghost sighed and said, "You're dead, too. So young… so much lost. Who is responsible for your own death? Don't you want vengeance? Vengeance on those who don't care as long as they can remove the remains of your spirit from the face of the Earth?"_

"_I've never been one for revenge," Danny replied softly._

_And the ghost laughed. "Really? Then why are you so terrified, little boy? Why are you so paranoid?" He looked positively amused as he added as an afterthought, "Paranoia can lead to madness, you know."_

"_What are you talking about?" _

"_Observe," the ghost told him, as if he was teaching an impatient child how to add up, a child who didn't quite understand. He closed his eyes, and a moment later, there were four of them._

_But that wasn't possible! He shut his eyes tightly, then a booming clatter came so loudly that they snapped open again. There was a large crater in the street, and another ectoplasmic energy blast going to join the previous one. Danny's eyes followed it to where it had originated, and he froze. _

_Three white-haired boys with green eyes stared at him – one looked up and gave him the self-satisfied smile of a predator. Danny drifted backwards slowly, away from them. They… they…_

"_What is this?" Danny asked the ghost in a small voice._

_The voice just repeated the mysterious phrasing from before. "Paranoia can lead to madness."_

_Danny looked back at the three… things…and realized where this was going. "What are you talking about! I'm not mad, I'm not!" He started shaking. "And they… they aren't me! This isn't even me!"_

"_Really, Daniel?" The ghost turned to look at one of his creations and gave a nod. The ghost drifted down to the street and returned with a scrap of metal – it looked like part of the remains of a car that had been blasted apart in the crater earlier. He hoped nobody had been inside…_

_The ghost creature floated up to him and held it in front of his face._

"_What are you d-" Danny began, then cut off as he saw what the ghost obviously wanted him to. The moon reflected off the piece and heralded a reflection… and he found himself staring at his own face. Danny jumped, and stared at the ghost again, horrified._

"_NO! That's not possible!"_

_He woke up._


	9. A Step Between Worlds

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Author's Note: Look, a quick update! This chapter is kind of obviously a play-on _My Brother's Keeper_ – I like keeping episode references in AUs, especially as changes tend to occur. There are also som references to _Control Freaks_ in here. The end is it's own bit, however, leading right into the bowels of hell that I like to call my mind.

* * *

Chapter Eight: A Step Between Worlds

It was all Jazz's fault, really.

Anger management – that was what she'd told his parents that he needed. She was worried about him! Why did she tell them? How could she? All right, so maybe he'd scared her a bit, but he hadn't meant to.

He'd scared himself, too!

When he'd woken up, he'd been… panicked. And he'd lost control again – the result being that his bedside lamp had been blasted into pieces.

He hadn't thrown it, but what could he say? There was no 'right answer'. So he'd remained sullenly silent, and it had all gone downhill from there.

For the past ten minutes, he'd been glowering at the floor. The red-haired lady had just sat there watching him in silence, her glasses hanging off her nose, waiting for him to crack. He fidgeted uncomfortably, watched the hands of the clock. The sound felt like it was being fire-branded into his mind. He twitched. The lady continued to stare.

"When can I go?" he mumbled. He couldn't believe that he was actually asking to be taken back to class.

"You're by no means forced to be here, Danny," the psychologist said, but as he looked up at her, he saw that her smile said otherwise. "Now won't you tell me what caused that gloomy face?"

He scowled, turned away. "I'm fine."

"You have dark circles under your eyes," Spectra noted. "Have you been sleeping?" Danny rubbed at his eyes furiously, as if trying to lose the expression on his face showing his evident lack of sleep.

"I sleep," he said defensively.

"Do you sleep well?" Spectra prompted. He remained silent. "Never mind. I've just never seen a child as exhausted as you. You are exhausted in more ways than one."

"What's that meant to mean?" Danny snapped.

"Figure it out," she told him. "Why are you so angry, Danny? And why are you shaking?"

Danny shook his head as if trying to erase the words from memory. "I don't have to listen to this. I don't want to talk about anything. I don't want to be here!" He got up and practically ran from the room, the door banging shut behind him.

As it did so, Spectra smiled and said quietly, "You'll be back, Danny. I've never felt despair taste as sweet… you cannot deny me of that."

She smiled and picked up the phone in her office to dial through to the principal, but hesitated. She'd neglected to tell her young charge that in extreme cases, visits to the school psychologist were mandatory. Perhaps he wouldn't qualify yet, though.

But, she thought, it was lucky that she – and Bertrand, her partner from behind the scenes - was there to make sure that he qualified as an extreme enough case.

* * *

"Come on, guys, don't you think it'd be an educational experience?" 

"Er, Sam?" Tucker asked, exchanging an odd look with Danny, who was leaning against his locker as the three of them loitered in the hallway. "How is a freakshow good for education?"

"Aw, come on! It's Circus Gothica! The one circus for Goths with absolutely none of the ridiculous happiness!"

"Wouldn't that just be depressing?"

"Hello, that's the idea!" Sam turned and rounded on Danny. "What do you think, Danny?"

Danny blinked. "Hmm? Oh, what you said…"

Tucker glared at him in mock outrage. "You didn't even listen to what she said, did you?"

"Er… well…" He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was a bit distracted."

"We," Sam declared, "are going to write to that guy called Freakshow and get him to bring the Circus Gothica to Amity Park!"

"We are?" Danny was startled. "Why would we want a gothic circus here?" he asked, gesturing to Tucker and himself. The other boy seemed to share Danny's sentiments.

"Because there's never anything suitable for us here!" Sam exclaimed, collectively referring to Amity Park's Goth population in general (Danny didn't think it could be _that_ big…).

"But would writing to that guy even work?" Tucker asked. "I mean, it's not like Amity Park's a major tourist attraction or anything…"

"Well, why wouldn't it work! I-" Sam froze, and Tucker mirrored her.

"Uh, guys?" Danny asked, feeling distinctly uneasy.

"Danny?" Sam sounded cautious, and it looked as if she was trying far too hard to remain calm. "There's-"

Sam never finished the sentence, but Danny had a good idea of the source of her worry when a chillingly cold hand clasped his wrist, and then drew him back _through_ the wall.

Tucker and Sam blinked at the wall, then the techno geek asked in a strangely even voice, "…You just saw that, right?"

* * *

"Argh!" Danny wrenched himself out of the grip of whatever had grabbed him. He didn't know what it was. Turning around, he was startled to see a big, flat but corporeal black shadow. That… should be impossible. 

But then, ghosts should be impossible, too. Their existence seemed to defy logic. Something like himself; a half-ghost, defied physics even more. To be alive and dead… maybe that was why Danny felt like such an abomination. Yet the shadow had pulled him through the wall, into the odd room – it was cosy but dusty, with a desk and a lot of piles of paper on it. Bookcases were littered with books, and there were numerous file cabinets. Danny didn't bother glancing at them. He was too concerned about the creature before him.

"Are you a ghost?" he asked quietly, still backing away from the thing in front of him.

"Astute observation, boy," remarked the shadow creature. "You should take up Psychology."

Danny pulled a face. Jazz was the pseudo-psychologist, not him. He didn't like the strange calm feeling that was floating through him. He'd almost prefer the terror; he didn't like this… acceptance. At least he'd known where he stood before. Maybe he was in shock…

"Where are we?" he asked.

The shadow ghost looked amused. "We are still inside your school. We're in a staff office, actually. I believe you may know the owner as Mr. Lancer."

"This is _Lancer's_ office?" It was all Danny had time to exclaim before he was thrown backwards, but not by the shadow ghost.

In front of him was a glowing green ghost – well, if Danny was honest, it looked more like a bright green pile of goo. A pile of goo that suddenly sprouted wings.

Danny made a noise at the back of his throat and backed off. Okay, _now_ he was getting scared…

The ghost fired an ectoplasmic ray at him, and he blinked, just managing to jump out of the way in time. Danny felt his own hand buzzing almost in response, and he stretched it out in front of him, staring at it. The buzzing feeling seemed to be spreading through his entire body.

Then he changed. It was the first time he realized what was happening, and a part of him was terrified. But if there was one things his dreams, twisted as they were, had taught him, it was that the best idea was to act first and then panic later. If you let yourself get panicked at first, you froze up. Who knew what would happen if he froze up while this creature was attacking him?

An ectoblast flew from his hand – he only registered it a moment later. He started in surprise, then reprimanded himself – he didn't have _time_ for that! The ghost seemed just as surprised. It hit him, and flecks of slimy looking ectoplasm settled on the carpet. Danny squirmed.

"Oh, you've finally got a grip on yourself, have you?" the ghost mocked.

Danny didn't trust himself to answer.

"That was ridiculously weak," chided the ghost. "_This_ is how an ectoblast is done properly," he informed Danny, then aimed for his face.

Instinctively Danny put his hands in front of his head for protection, bracing himself for impact, but his body seemed to hum again. He opened his eyes and blinked incredulously. He was looking at the world through a sheen of green light, and he watched the ectoblast coming at him in fascination. It hit the light, and Danny was knocked backwards a bit as the apparent shield vibrated.

He was just glad it hadn't broken.

He slowly released the shield, for once glad of having such a good instinct. And that was a shield… it was there to protect, not be destructive! It was just a shame that he couldn't justify his earlier ectoplasmic ray in the same way. He smiled for a minute, and then bafflingly enough collapsed to the floor.

_What the…?_

His exhaustion – both emotional and physical – was obviously acting up. It was, he realized, the worst time for such a thing. He felt tears pooling in his eyes.

He dragged himself to his feet, but it took a phenomenal amount of effort. The green ghost just laughed at him – the black one seemed to have disappeared somewhere during combat – and said, "This isn't very fun. So weak, such a _child_… I've fought babies who were more of a challenge than you."

"Shut up," Danny said, his throat suddenly inexplicably raw.

The ghost just chuckled again, then lunged at him. It wasn't what Danny had been expecting. He was flung backwards into one of the file cabinets with enough force that it rocked backwards, hit the wall and fell back forwards, no barrier there to stop it. His eyes widened.

The cabinet fell on top of him. It didn't hurt, not exactly. His instinct seemed to have managed another weak shield, which fell easily under the weight of the cabinet but stopped the impact being so damaging. He was just a little dazed, that was all. He didn't really know what was going on. And the buzzing feeling was back, and he knew that he was himself again. The minimal pain seemed to increase ten-fold, but it wasn't that mad. He'd still be able to move.

He certainly didn't know why he was crying.

Then hands were pulling him out, and a familiarly chirpy voice was saying, "Oh, Danny, let's get you out of there," and he was even more confused. Spectra? The psychologist? Where had she come from? Where had the green ghost gone – or the black one for that matter? As she hoisted him up, he looked around wearily, but they were nowhere to be seen. Spectra's glasses looked odd, they made her look like an FBI agent. Oh, she always wore glasses! The idea was funny. He giggled half-hysterically.

Spectra frowned. "Oh dear, Danny, what's wrong?" she coaxed.

He was so exhausted… his emotions had gone so haywire… He supposed that they were the reasons why it happened. He didn't tell her anything – she likely wouldn't have believed him. But it was the reason why he broke down in her arms and cried, though he'd never had admit it to anybody.

"There, there," Spectra said, enveloping him in a hug and patting him on the back. He smiled, yet he couldn't see her. She'd never felt this well fed in a long time. Clearly, she'd have to do something to make these 'sessions' be permanent. It had been a long time since she'd had the illusion that she could live youthfully under the sorrow of one person.

This was certainly one of the best days that she could ever remember!

* * *

He could still walk. He'd known that he'd be able to – everything was going to be okay! He felt _so_ much better! He loved the surge of excitement that he hadn't felt in so long. He just wished he'd got rid of the fatigue. He was still half-asleep. 

He could see Sam and Tucker. It looked like they'd skipped class, looking for him. They were standing around the wall now, maybe wondering if they could somehow grab Danny back from the room beyond – they obviously weren't sure what the wall backed up onto.

He gripped the door handle as he strode through the door just to make sure he didn't fall in such constant tiredness, but he was almost beaming, and then a twinge of pain attacked his head and light seemed to flash in front of him, so he froze, closing his eyes. He was shaking.

When he opened them again, the sight made his stomach twist and he felt like he was going to lose his lunch.

* * *

Author's Note: I love cliffhangers. :) In case it isn't obvious, and I'll say this again next chapter, **the next chapter contains a scene with imagery that some of you may find disturbing. If you think this warrants a bump up an M rating, let me know rather than reporting me. **I asked you all about this for a reason. Reviews are much appreciated, especially as this is the first 'action' scene I've ever written and would very much like opinions on it. 


	10. Paranoia

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Author's Note: In case you need a reminder, **this chapter contains aforementioned shady graphic images. If you think it warrants a rating bump, let me know.** Thank you. Speaking of thank yous, thank you to all my reviewers - it's great to hear your feedback. 

On the topic of reviews, **the shadow last chapter was not Johnny 13's shadow.** Sorry, I should have made that clearer. I don't know if anybody's noticed it, but I tend to not use names if the character whose POV I'm strictly writing in does not know their name. It's Spectra's ghost form, and it's the best description I could come up with. (Better than alternatives such as the ones Sarah and I discussed while I was writing that scene at college, like, "that black 3D shadow thingy"). To Danny, Spectra and her ghost form are different things - as are Vlad and Plasmius. Hope that's cleared up any confusion.

I enjoyed writing this first scene far too much - I've only made one slight edit to it since I wrote it a few months back, adding in the second paragraph, and it was great fun. I suppose that ought to say something about me. Either way, I hope it's interesting. I enjoy writing description - now if only I could balance it with speech, the story might be of better quality...

* * *

Chapter Nine: Paranoia

_The corridor was empty and picturesque; it was a black-and-white photograph, one long before his time. He stood there, and knew he was horribly out of place._

_The obvious spatters on the walls made him choke. It made the room look like a canvas that had become carelessly splattered, but knowing that the substance could only be one thing only made his stomach clench more._

_He could see the silhouette of a shadow in front of him. It hung forward limply; arms and legs stretched out almost like some sort of twisted parody of a crucifix. He could see it towering forward like some great giant, the way things in the shadow world often do._

_It was cold. It was creepy. He was shivering and it felt as if his skin were trying to crawl away; it was just repulsed with the place. Ideally, Danny wanted to run off screaming too, but a morbid curiosity was calling him forward._

_As he walked, he registered a steady dripping sound coming from just in front of him, but otherwise it was completely silent. He shivered again and this time it wasn't from the cold. He reached out slowly, and clutched at the object – the person – that was the cause of the shadow, a baby compared to the giant hanging over him. The figure hung over in a sort of half crouch, one hand clutching at nothing while the other didn't even seem to be there. He grasped the hand gently. He felt as if he'd plunged his hand into a bucket of ice._

_The eyes snapped open. They seemed dead, unrecognising, dull… the violet eyes of a dead woman. The figure didn't seem to have caught on that it was meant to be dead, though. The eyes weren't focused, and they weren't exactly staring at him either – they seemed to be staring right through__ him._

_Danny gulped._

_She reached out for him as if asking for help, but he didn't move. He was petrified. Besides, if she needed some help then he'd give it to her… he couldn't believe__ what had happened to her… he wasn't even sure what had__ happened. _

_The hand reached out blindly. He thought it was reaching for his shoulder and closed his eyes. They bulged open again when the hand fastened around his throat._

* * *

He choked, the hand cutting off his airway. He couldn't breathe. He was slipping to the floor, his eyes bulging wide open, and he grasped desperately at the floor in a bid to bring the world further into focus. 

He hurt all over. His eyes flashed green. He was fighting the urge to claw at his own throat, but it was clearly a losing battle.

"Danny!"

He could hear a voice. Danny, it said. Danny? Oh! It was his name! His name! Who was calling him? Maybe he was dying. Or was he already dead? It was all so very confusing…

Then someone punched him in the face. He opened his mouth and air rushed in so quickly that he started coughing harshly. He trembled.

A face appeared in front of Danny's. It was Tucker, so he smiled weakly as his friend helped him to his feet, though he was a little unnerved with the way he was being looked at as if he'd fall apart any minute from then.

"What hit me?" he joked feebly, trying to ignore the images that had been plastered in his mind and were threatening to overcome him.

Tucker's serious look broke a bit, as he looked amused, and Danny saw why when Sam said, "That was me. Sorry, but you looked like you needed it."

He mumbled, "Thanks, Sam," and then he looked at her and froze. The images seemed to dance triumphantly to the front of his mind, demanding his attention. All he could see was the girl, the animated corpse.

He turned and finally threw up on the floor. The images seemed to finally have caught up with him, and he was even more sickened.

"Danny," Sam said, "you _really_ don't look well. Should I-"

He wasn't quite sure what she wanted, but he quickly yelled, "No, no! I just… I… I gotta get out of here!" The pace with which he ran was positively inhuman.

"What's up with him?" Sam fumed, "It can't just be the _thing_. He knows we're fine with that. Nobody would care!"

"He just went catatonic, Sam," Tucker said, staring her in the eye. "Do you want to be the one to tell Jazz again, because serious as it is, I don't see the point condemning him to her again. Besides, she wouldn't do anything other than watch him constantly."

Sam punched the locker in front of her, then shaking her hand from pain. It hadn't been the best idea. "It's just… so irritating when there's nothing you can do to help!"

"Maybe the best thing we can do for now is to leave him be," Tucker said with uncharacteristic foresight.

"And be there for him?" Sam asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, and be there for him," Tucker confirmed seriously. "Isn't that what friends are for?"

"That and for going finding the cleaner," Sam chuckled, "because I don't want to have to be the one to get the mop. Even with friends, you have limits!"

* * *

When he closed his eyes, the images were practically branded into him. He shivered, opened his eyes again. Sometimes even facing the world could be a better thing than trying to hide inside your head. 

He retched. At least he wasn't being sick again.

He didn't understand what had happened. He didn't particularly want to know.

He'd run home, went straight upstairs and collapsed on his bed. He was still there now, curled in a ball, staring unblinkingly at the wall.

Where had it come from? He'd just been standing there, and then – And the girl, who was she? Danny had felt a vague sense of recognition, but couldn't put a name to the face. Maybe he didn't want to do that either, because who really wanted to find out the identity of the living corpse they'd just seen?

Especially when that living corpse didn't seem too fond of him…

He didn't think he'd done anything. What if he'd lost it, and his ghost side – the wretched thing that needed to be gone – had done this? What if his dreams had merely been premonitions, and now he was seeing the results of how truly malevolent he was, and –

Panicking was not going to get him anywhere. He'd done enough of it recently to last a lifetime. There… there had to be another explanation. The ghost was still he. He did it. He'd remember if he'd done something like that – wouldn't he?

There was no time for doubts.

The door creaked open. Danny resisted the urge to turn his head. He knew who it was; of the current occupants in the Fenton household, only one didn't constantly blather on about ghosts.

"Danny?" she asked him.

"Hi, Jazz." He didn't look away from the wall. For a moment, he could almost see blood – He shut his eyes quickly. The sight was still in front of his eyes, but at least it wasn't in front of him. His room was not ever going to become such a blood bath.

"Mom and dad said you didn't look well, and that they didn't want to disturb you. I didn't think they meant –" She cut herself off. "I told them I'd bring you some food."

He forced himself to open his eyes, to look at her. "Thanks." He smiled slightly. "Bread and soup? How'd you figure that one out?"

"From the way your voice is rasping, I figured you'd need it. Besides, when I asked Sam and Tucker were you where, they told me you'd been sick – I don't think they meant to. It just slipped out."

Danny sighed. "Thanks, anyway."

His sister smiled, but made no effort to leave. She seemed to be imposing her company on him. It didn't bother Danny too much, however much he'd have protested it in any sort of company. It was sort of… nice to have Jazz fuss over him. With the way he'd been feeling lately, it had seemed as if the whole world had hated him.

It did make him feel a bit guilty about snapping at Jazz recently, but not enough for him to say anything about it.

He opened the thermos. It looked a bit odd; he didn't think he'd seen it around before. It was white and green, and looked extraordinarily… hi-tech. That was nothing compared to the inside of the thermos, though – it was thoroughly empty, and extremely dry.

Maybe he was going mad.

"Jazz, not that I don't appreciate it or anything, but the soup's… gone."

"What are you talking about?" Jazz questioned. "Don't be ridiculous." She snatched it off him and stared at it. They exchanged an alarmed look.

He hadn't done it, had he? He could barely stop the accusation to himself. Okay, now he was being ridiculous. But what other explanation was there?

Of course, it was as Jazz and Danny were staring in bafflement at the thermos that their parents entered the room.

"How're you feeling, Danny?" his father boomed.

"O-okay, I guess," he replied, a little startled that he hadn't heard them enter. He normally would have done so easily. Everything was obviously getting to him.

"Sweetie, why do you have the Fenton Thermos?" his mother asked, giving him a strange look.

Jazz and he asked practically in unison, "What's a Fenton Thermos?"

"It is the latest in ghost-trapping technology!" His father grinned. "Made to store a whole load of ghosts for easy to dispensability!"

"What were you doing with it?" Maddie's forehead creased in confusion.

Jazz's face was practically aflame. "I tried giving Danny some soup in it, and it just –" She waved her hands uselessly.

Her father grinned excitedly. "Really? Then that means it must have been – GHOST SOUP!"

Danny choked on his slightly hysterical laughter, lapsing into a coughing fit. Maddie and Jack exchanged worried glances.

When he recovered, he didn't give them the chance for another question. Undoubtedly it would be another enquiry about his well-being, and he was frankly getting sick of those. "Could I have it?" He asked. He wasn't sure whether or not he liked the look on his father's face. He looked so –

"Danny, this means you're developing an interest in ghost-hunting! Just like your mother and I – of course you can have it!" Danny didn't have the heart to protest. "Do you want anything, Jazzy-pants?"

Jazz gave them a scrutinizing look. "I'll pass, thanks."

Danny smiled and laid the thermos down on the bed. He smiled at his parents. "Thank you."

"No problem, Danny! Bet you can't wait until you find out that we've finished the Fenton Ghost Catcher!"

"Maddie nodded, smiling. "It'll be done soon – when our hearts are set on something, Jack and I are done in no time! Sleep well, sweetie."

It wasn't even night time, though he wouldn't have argued against going to sleep. "_Mom_," he grumbled, evidently embarrassed by her display of affection. She just smiled.

"Be better in the morning, alright, Danny?"

"Sure," he told her. "I'll try to be." It was the most that he could say.

"That's all I ask," she smiled, and his parents left his room.

Jazz lingered for a minute, staring at him as if he was a particularly interesting specimen. It was if she was trying to determine what was wrong – she'd obviously noticed his uncharacteristic behaviour as of late…

"You know, Danny," she started suddenly, "if there's ever anything to talk about, you know that I'm here, right?"

He looked up, startled. "Yeah. Yeah. Right, thanks." He was truly grateful for her offer – though he certainly doubted that he'd ever take her up on it. She'd probably react as badly as their parents surely would when she found out the reason for the irregularities in his behaviour…

"Have a good rest, little brother," she said before slipping out of his room. She paused at the doorway. "And you should get something to eat, too – apparently your thermos ate your meal." She grinned slightly, then turned and left properly.

For a moment, Danny almost smiled. It was all right; he wasn't really hungry any more. He'd just sleep.

The smile fell - he was grateful that it was still daytime, and that the shadow demons wouldn't chase him that night.

He wasn't five years old anymore, but he'd had a shock, and a giant of a shadow depicting a mangled body wouldn't be erased from his mind easily.

He knew that the shadows would be chasing him for a long time – but it would be okay. At least for now, he had his family with him. And for what felt like the first time in a long time, he truly smiled.

* * *

Author's Note: Spontaneous scenes are your friend when they cover up potential plotholes! The end scene was fun, as I wanted the thermos scene to be a bit different from the regular type you find in fanfiction... hope it worked. Reviews very much appreciated - especially on how effective (or ineffective) that first bit was. Thanks for reading! 


	11. Self Vs Self

Paradoxical (_by timydamonkey_)

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, guys! Sorry for the wait - it can be attributed to college work, NaNoWriMo and the rekindling of this urge to write Hitsugaya fic. Oh, and the chapter being a pain. And my two hour battle with FFN to upload this chapter - note to self: uploading a near empty notepad document and pasting the chapter in then reformatting really works! And me. :) 

Anyway, **_this chapter once again contains shady graphic images. _**Just skip the bit in italics if you're concerned. I enjoyed writing it, though I'm unsure of how good it is as I edited it a LOT. And yes, it does have some deeper significance... though I don't know if it'll ever make sense to anyone but me. :P

Also, I apologize that the final scene is written so badly. I've never really attemped to write a fight scene before and it's... not the best thing ever. Still, I can only improve, right? Besides, the plot's moving, and as you can see from this chapter, so are the ghosts.

This chapter is obviously a bit of a parody of **_My Brother's Keeper_**. There are two more episode parodies alluded to in this episode - I don't think they're too hard to find. Can you spot them:)

* * *

Chapter Ten: Self Vs. Self 

It was strange how things changed. Before he went to sleep, he'd been more at peace than he'd been for a long time – and when he'd woke up, he'd simply been craving that phone call from Vlad.

It was annoying him. He'd progress and then he'd step backwards. In fact, he almost wanted to be drugged at night – sleeping pills, anything that might make him unable to dream. He knew that he was improving by day and regressing by night. And his dreams… his dreams… they were making him sick again. He'd already emptied his stomach in the early hours of the morning, and now he was just waiting for his parents to shout at him to get ready.

They didn't know he'd been sick. If he told them, he'd end up being kept off school and coddled, and he didn't need that right now. He needed to get out of his house. More and more, he was beginning to feel like an oddball in his family, like they'd decompose him given the chance.

He was worried that out of a son and a test subject, they'd choose the test subject.

He'd dreamed…

_Everywhere seemed to stink of rotting flesh. For a moment, he wondered why, peering at the walls enclosed around him, and then he saw they made up a cage of flesh. The dripping sound he'd thought must be putrid water he could now recognize as blood, however much it didn't seem to look like it. It didn't make sense, but little did anymore._

_Phantom figures slipped from flesh walls to peer at him; he could see it from the corner of his eye, but when he turned they'd be gone. With every phantom was himself, and he was the figure who remained where they'd stood, looking lost, alone. More often than not, his phantom was stained silver._

_He saw them all - his parents, his teachers, Paulina, other classmates. And himself, countless times over, causing the phantoms to flee._

_He wondered if he was going crazy._

_He crept forward. He didn't really know what he was doing, just that he needed to make some effort towards getting out of there. He didn't want to see anything anymore, so he kept looking at the ground. He wasn't too surprised when it didn't make any difference._

_For a moment, his sister appeared in front of him, smiling in her usual cheerful manner, no doubt lecturing somebody about their psychological health for her to be this happy. From the floor, his own phantom emerged. Jazz didn't disappear, though – she just stared as if in shock, and her body just fell backwards. He half-expected a resounding thud as it hit the floor, but there was none, for she just carried on falling through it. He felt like he'd just watched her float to her deathbed._

_His phantom watched it expressionlessly, and for a horrible moment he realized it was probably a perfect mirror image of himself._

_Looking back, maybe that was the point where he named his ghost half – appropriately enough, 'Phantom'. He wasn't entirely sure that the phantom he saw was his ghost half, but they both seemed alike enough and as bad as each other, so he referred to them collectively – not that he had any plans for referring to either out loud._

_He hoped they were one and the same – the phantom and the Phantom. He didn't want to juggle the idea that there was apparently more than two entities of himself in his mind – two was bad enough as it was._

_He didn't think that there was anybody left to see. It felt like the floor was erupting beneath his feet and he fell, grabbing onto the rotten flesh of the floor to prevent himself from falling. His hand squeezing it, he could feel blood trickling down his arm, and the sight and the smell made him heave._

_He pulled the thought through his mind again in a sort of dim hope; he didn't think there was anything left to see, and so he toyed with the idea that maybe, maybe he was going to fall free of this place._

_It was then that he realized he hadn't seen Sam._

_From somewhere above him, the girl fell like a rag doll, dangling upside down from something he couldn't see. He nearly lost his grip because he was so startled. More blood. He retched again, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the girl. She was swinging wildly, and as she fell as limp as a puppet, she whispered to him through a mouth forced open, "You did this to me! And I'll always be here to let you know about it!" _

_He could have sworn he saw a triumphant grin as she stopped moving, her body swinging like a pendulum, looking for the entire world like a corpse, face frozen in a bid for revenge. _

It was no wonder that he woke up screaming.

* * *

Technus had been watching the ghost child. The boy was most amusing, certainly powerful and held a lot of potential – yet he barely acknowledged he had it. Technus was scandalized; he knew ghosts who'd slaughter cities to have that sort of power. 

He had all that power, but no _control._

It was highly frustrating, Technus decided. The boy would be most useful to him and of course, likely more compatible with technology than he was, and with the way he was at the moment, he could almost be called a waste of space. And somebody rotting away and being a waste of space, somebody who had enough skill for him to consider _allying_ himself with – yes, he, Technus! – was simply unacceptable.

And if nobody else was going to do anything about it, then he would.

He knew the boy hated ghosts – despised them. It was blatantly obvious that he could not go up to the boy as he was now – but the boy trusted his friends beyond anything, which was how he found himself floating invisibly in the house of the boy's male friend. He'd chosen this house as it was practically alive with technology, and he respected that, and grudgingly respected the boy by extension.

Unfortunately, the boy was an obstacle in his upcoming task. For that, he could have killed the boy, but he wasn't going to. If the ghost child trusted his friend, then Technus could easily use that. He could coach the boy with him barely realising it, and it felt great. He knew how it would work. It required a little more research, however, but that hardly mattered. What was a little bit of time compared to the estimated result? It applied in Science and it applied now.

"Ah, ghost child," he muttered to the air, "how fun it will be for I, Technus, to make you realize your potential! And steal it, and you, away!" He cackled, and then glanced around the ominously silent room in sudden realisation. "Nobody heard that, right?"

Not waiting for any reply, he phased into the computer. As soon as he stepped through, he decided it might have been more beneficial to wait until it was actually switched on…

* * *

Even he wasn't sure how he'd ended up in Spectra's office again. He supposed he could blame it on the nightmares. He hadn't wanted his family to find out anyway, but he did think that Jazz had made a big deal over it. He'd been treated to a lecture that seemed to last for an eternity about how nightmares were often deep manifestations of subconscious worries or something of the like, and if that hadn't been enough, he'd been dragged off here. 

He had no idea what to say, for how could explain off what was happening without saying, "By the way, I'm some kind of mutant – I'm both human _and_ ghost." As if he would ever tell anybody that, given the choice.

Spectra was practically crooning.

He hadn't really been listening. Why should he? They just told him the same things over and over again. He just tended to zone in at various intervals, and this time, he really didn't like what he was hearing.

"Ah, Danny," she told him, while looking as if she was basking in sunlight. She almost seemed to be physically glowing, but that was a preposterous thought. "Nightmares aren't something you should be worried about. Sure, others may laugh, and you may lose a lot of self-respect and that sparkling self-confidence, but isn't that what it's always like in life? Constant condemnation by nightmares isn't pretty, but it's easy to tell that it's all that you're destined for in life."

How she managed to stay sounding so cheery through that whole speech, he didn't know.

"No," he disagreed, secretly quite impressed by how calm he was sounding. "This is not going to go on forever. It _can't_." He wanted to say more, so much more, but he thought he'd cry if he did. He'd said too much already.

"There's nothing you can do, Danny. Time has no friends, only enemies." She sounded so bitter, and for a moment he almost wondered if she herself could do with talking to somebody about her own problems. She obviously had issues and they seemed as ridiculous as his.

"I thought you were supposed to be helping me!"

"I can't help those who can't be helped." Her sympathy was really starting to get on his nerves. And why was he here if she couldn't help him? He stood up. "Although your self esteem I could help you with. After all, just because your sister thinks you're a loser, it doesn't mean you are, right?"

Danny froze. Maybe it was the fact that he'd almost been relying on Jazz recently. He trusted his sister, and however overbearing she'd been, he'd thought it had been more that she'd cared rather than thinking he was a loser. It was uncharacteristic of her. She wouldn't say it.

So why did he believe it? "That's not true," he said, more to convince himself than anything. "Jazz wouldn't say that."

Spectra raised an eyebrow, and said as if she were agreeing with his sister, "You may think so, but it's what she said."

Anger was starting to creep up his chest, along with the transformation sensation that was starting to become far too familiar. He didn't need to see himself to know what had happened.

Spectra smiled. "I have been waiting for this. I wondered if you were being particularly difficult, not being provoked very easily…" She sounded delighted, and at that, she suddenly melted into shadow… a creature of shadow, but a shadow that had form. He recognized it immediately.

"You…!" He didn't need to say the rest for her to catch on.

"No, I'm not like you." She was laughing at him now. "I am a ghost who can take on the form of a human. But you… what are you?"

And maybe it was that he wasn't sure either, but the question brought forth an explosion of anger.

* * *

Maddie was worried. Things just seemed to be working against her family recently – mostly her son, Danny. She supposed it had all started with that incident in the lab. None of them really knew what happened; they could only speculate and Danny didn't seem to remember. He did, however, seem traumatised, as Jazz constantly pointed out. 

They'd tried giving him space. They'd tried scrutinising him. All it seemed to be doing to their son was putting him on edge, so now they were trying to let things run by themselves and see how it went. It was difficult to stay in such vein when you awoke to your fourteen-year-old child screaming as if he'd been stabbed.

They didn't really know what to do.

The letter couldn't have come at a worse time. Danny Fenton, it said, had won a week's holiday in Wisconsin, all expenses paid. It even offered return value. It could be arranged at the boy's convenience within a limited time. It was almost too good of a deal to be true.

Her instinct wanted her to immediately burn the letter. For starters, the sender – the DALV Corp – was not a place she had heard of, and she hadn't heard of the initial competition either. It sounded dodgy, and her son was so off at the moment, she was worried of letting him out of her sight… school was bad enough.

She was going to decline the invitation. She'd tell Danny – he'd understand; she was sure. There was no way he should be going to Wisconsin, especially with his current state of health.

Besides, she thought, whatever it was he'd won wasn't more important than his health, and right now, her son's health was of far greater importance than his happiness if it came down to it. Of course she wanted her son to be happy – what kind of a mother would she be if she didn't? – but she had to prioritise, and she had done.

She was going to keep a close watch on Danny… for how long, she didn't know, but at least until he managed to sleep a night through, which was looking like an impossible task. It saddened her to think that such a thing was, but it would be all right in the end. Danny was a Fenton; he'd live through it. And his family would be with him all the way.

* * *

He was angry – so angry that he couldn't think straight. It was as if all reservations had been pushed away in his mind, ready to be dealt with later. Now, there was just anger and a need to get rid of this ghost. 

He didn't really know what he was doing. It was just instinct. One moment he was staring at her, floating several feet off the ground, and the next he had ectoplasm coated in his hand and was aiming ectoblasts at her.

They missed. She laughed, as if delighted. "Your aim leaves much to be desired," she informed him cheerily. "Poor Danny, no good at that either!"

She lunged at him, and he leaped backwards and somehow found himself higher up in the air – flying. He would deal with that later. Right now, he had no time for such trivial matters. Bursting forwards in the air – and having no way to explain it if he'd tried – he punched for her face. Just before it connected, it started to glow green, powered by the ectoplasm.

Spectra was thrown against the wall, and she was no longer smiling. "Bertrand!" she called genially.

He told himself that he'd expected it, really. This ghost had always seemed to be with that puddle of goo. It didn't make the odds any better, though. The green goo – Bertrand apparently – smirked and reformed as a panther. Staggering, it pounced, and thought he dodged on instinct, it wasn't good enough. He was thrown into the wall – pain – and the claws just missed slashing his back. Instead, his bag was ruined, and the contents scattered on the floor, most probably ruined.

There went the essays he'd tried so hard on. There went several of his possessions. There went that stupid thermos, however it had got in there…

And then he remembered what his dad had said, and he kicked Bertrand back and snatched it up off the floor. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to use it. It felt completely useless.

The panther-shaped Bertrand was snarling now, and jumped at him again. He floated upwards and through the ceiling – anything to buy time. He wasn't thinking. There was no time to think, just do. He opened the thermos, keeping it held away from him just in case, and nothing happened. He swore, then was thrown back again by a blast of some kind. An ectoblast? He wasn't sure.

He hit the wall. His head was throbbing. He felt that his throat was going to be torn out.

His hand tightened on that stupid thermos, and he hit a button. Pulled it open. The ghost was sucked inside.

There was nothing but anger, and fear, and contempt.

For that moment, the pain was buzzing away.

This time, Spectra was the one hissing and spitting like an enraged cat. He flew up and punched her, too – charged punches. He imagined he could hear the satisfying crunch of carnage, and as she went to attack him again, he managed to get in a good kick. The thermos was in his hand, and he knew how to use it now, and he pressed the button and pointed it at her. She was sucked up immediately, incoherent shrieks of rage reaching his ears.

He was panting, and as the ghost form dropped, he fell to the ground and barely felt the pain. Maybe it's that his head was still spinning… whether from the height or earlier impact, he didn't know. He'd always figured ghosts were more resilient, but this hurt so _much- _

He closed his eyes. 


	12. The Boy and the Puzzle

Paradoxical _(by timydamonkey)_

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! Found my notes for this chapter in the midst of scribbling down bits of research about WWII London for my English writing coursework. I'd been having great trouble writing this chapter, but now I'm going to try again. 

Mind you, it's not like I've been left alone by ideas. I added one or two projects that have finally come back out of hiatus as well as the names and fandoms of the new ideas to my **progress report** on my profile to let you know where things are standing at the moment. Fact is, one-shots never leave me alone…

Also, I fail at writing Lancer. For real. And again, I'm not writing the birds accents, because I fail at that too.

Also, who knew how hard it was to keep so much foreshadowing and room for future events in one story? Still, this is the first time I've tried to keep more than one plotline running at a time, and it's a good writing exercise, especially as they all cross over. Reviews welcome, and thanks all reviewers.

* * *

Chapter 11: The Boy and the Puzzle

When Danny awoke, his eyes were wet. He supposed he'd cried – understandable enough really, he'd felt as if he'd been hacked with an axe all over his body. The feeling now felt massively muted, though his body ached irritatingly as if he'd just run a marathon at breakneck speed.

He got up. Everything was eerily silent and, in his experience, that was never good. The office looked as if a tornado had swept through it. He grabbed his bag, saw the hole again, then looked to the floor and picked up some of his belongings. The essays were probably ruined, and mixed up amongst sheets of paper from the office itself.

He wondered if leaving them there would be considered 'incriminating evidence', because he was feeling far too exhausted to sift through the whole floor. He was positive this draining feeling wasn't even as a result of his injuries, but the anger.

He could remember it, now.

What was he? Spectra's question had marked something in his mind, because he really didn't know. He felt like a bit of a freak of nature, actually. Something you look back at later and just say, 'Oops'. One of those things that you really want, and when you get it, it turns out to be a defect, and you've just paid a million dollars, non-refundable.

He supposed he had defective DNA. But how was that even possible? He'd been fine for years. Maybe the machine had just aggravated it? Because, he thought, it couldn't have changed his DNA. No. That was impossible. If researchers could do it, you'd know; they'd be gloating all over the news, and people would be asking for designer DNA, tailor-made to get them what they want. People would be saying, is there a specific form of DNA that gives me a greater probability of being rich? Of not being bald? Or worse. Could you modify my genetic makeup? I'd like to be a cat; I was born to be one really…

It would be a nightmare.

Danny felt like some sort of prototype, cast off into the back of a storeroom. It wasn't only depressing; it made him quite angry – with everything. And then he stopped and breathed, because he remembered what happened the last time he was angry. Maybe it was a one-off… or maybe it was a sign of malevolence, and everybody was right, and he'd only be human in name – and even that was debateable. He'd cease to be him, and end up just as another ghost.

He took a deep breath and started at the ceiling, feeling like he wanted to tear his hair out. Anything that'd just make all of this go away, or at least not matter, even for a minute. Of course, since the accident, nothing had been going right for Danny, and he wondered gloomily if it ever would again.

The door opened. Danny felt caught up in a moment, and that moment seemed to be trying to stretch forever, suspended in time… and then it broke, and it felt like there was an illusion shattering. He knew nothing except that he was in very big trouble.

"Fenton!"

* * *

"Hey! I can't talk to you right now, I gotta change the ecto-filtrator-" 

"Answer phone?" muttered the voice on the other side, sighing softly. Then, to somebody else, "I thought your parents would be in."

He can't hear the answer. "No, this isn't the answer phone," Jack offers, a little annoyed by the mistake. "But it's of vital importance that I-"

"Then, my apologies, Mr. Fenton, but it is imperative I talk to you about your son."

"What, Danny?" Even Jack knew something had been wrong with him lately, but what exactly… well, he had no idea. Neither did Maddie. They were considering resorting to asking Jazz, but having to ask your child about the psychological welfare of your other child seemed a bit ridiculous. It was beginning to look more and more necessary. "Is he all right?"

"Oh, he looks _fine_, all things considered," said the other guy. "Mr. Fenton, would you please wait outside?" Jack was confused for a moment, but it dawned on him that the man must be talking to Danny – presumably the person who had answered before. (The only other candidate had been Jazz, and from what was said, it didn't seem as if it was her.) After a small pause, the guy said, "_Physically_, he's fine, I mean. In his head? Well… you are aware he's been seeing our school counsellor?"

"Yes," said Jack, who thought he vaguely recalled Jazz mentioning it at some time or another.

"Well, I found him in her office, with everything ransacked. I see no feasible reason to believe anybody else had anything to do with it, and with him standing quite happily in the middle of the room, I fear he's the culprit. He looked perhaps a little dazed, but fine – and the counsellors are missing." There was a pause, and when the voice returned, it seemed to be rambling to itself rather than being used for the benefit of Jack. "And if they're buried under all that junk in there, who knows what will happen? There's so much of it you can't even see the floor!"

"So… you think Danny vandalised a room?" Jack asked, just to make sure he was clear on the facts.

"Vandalised is the word," said the man. "And if you take a look at that room, you can't tell me there was no malicious intent involved. Nobody could do so much damage with no intentions!"

A pause. "Maddie?" Jack called. "Can you change the ecto-filtrator please?" A slightly longer pause. "And maybe fetch me the ham? This seems like an emergency, and _that_ is under the domain of Jack Fenton!"

From the other end of the phone, the confusion started to be overwhelmed and he sighed. Both Jack and his caller knew it was going to be a long day.

* * *

The boy was different. Something was clearly wrong, but he couldn't quite pinpoint when he'd noticed it. It'd started with bags under his eyes, before his behaviour had become slightly more… erratic. But only slightly. 

And now… for once, he found himself at a loss for words. Was erratic the right word for completely destroying a room for no apparent reason? _Chicken soup for the soul_, the boy seemed to be going mad!

He'd been watching the boy when he'd noticed how tired he was. Being a teacher, there was only so much he could do. He was sure Danny wouldn't respond favourably to his teacher's concern… he'd even seemed to be brushing off his friends for a while, but they seemed to have fallen back in with each other. He was somewhat relieved.

He'd been wondering what to do. Then Jasmine – lovely girl, very intelligent – had come to him, also concerned about her brother, and asked what could be done. They both hit the same idea – the school psychologist.

The problem being, they were still looking for a school psychologist. They hadn't had one for quite a while, so he'd pulled some strings – he could at least do that – and hired a lovely lady called Penelope Spectra. She had quite the reputation, but just before she was due to be hired, she went missing – and re-emerged at Amity Park, cheerfully greeting him and asking when she could see her patients. Her bubbly, overenthusiastic attitude was a refreshing change, and there were students he thought it could help – including Danny.

After the boy's little incident, this would be the prime time to send him right back to the psychologist. There were two problems however; the office was wrecked, and Spectra had disappeared. Was this related to Danny's apparent fit? He didn't know. But Lancer had a very bad feeling about it all…

He picked up the phone. He'd already spoken to the Fentons, but he had another call to make. After all, it seemed he needed to enquire for a new psychologist more than ever before.

* * *

Vlad's vultures were tired and they were _bored._ They'd been hanging around Amity Park for ages on Vlad's orders. _Stay away from the boy_, he'd said. No reason why, and the kid was the only interesting thing around, anyway. 

Watch from a distance, and find out why that invitation was declined. Not that the man and woman had been any help, avoiding talking about the subject like the plague. So they'd finally decided to disobey Vlad's orders – but only _slightly,_ they weren't going to _talk_ to the boy, just investigate him and the people around him.

Which was how they were watching Lancer as he made his phone call. Still intangible, they flew through the wall, and one announced, "Need a psychologist, eh? Plasmius could use this!" Finally, they could return.

They flew straight at the roof, and if they were detected by anything – or anyone – they never knew it; just that they were finally going back to Wisconsin.

Great. This place was a dump.

* * *

It was ready. Everything was ready. 

The computer jerked into life, and the boy threw his schoolbag on the floor, pulling a PDA out of his pocket to stare at the screen for a moment, before nodding and putting it back there.

Technus knew that everything could come to life now. He'd had time to explore the computer and he knew exactly what he was going to do. Why, it was like the computer was built specifically for this purpose! For plotting, for training – for _practical usage_.

Who knew what sort of use certain computer applications could be? _Games._ People looked at them as useless, harmless pass-times, for the most part. Oh, how he laughed!

The boy leaned back on the chair in front of the screen, then double clicked an application.

It was time.

Technus stepped forward, through the screen – the boys' eyes widened comically – and then he pounced.


End file.
